The Potion Master's Daughter
by 0118999881999119725.3
Summary: Perhaps it was the shame of having committed such an action... Or maybe it was simply the copious amounts of alcohol that he'd drunk that night. Whatever the reason, Severus Snape managed to forget his first reaction to discovering the love of his life, Lily Evans, was pregnant with James Potter's spawn.
1. Chapter 1

**The Potion Master's Daughter**

**Prologue**

Perhaps it was the shame of having committed such an action... Or maybe it was simply the copious amounts of alcohol that he'd drunk that night. Whatever the reason, Severus Snape managed to forget his first reaction to discovering the love of his life, Lily Evans, was pregnant with James Potter's spawn.

Regardless, that night's actions brought about something he never would have imagined possible for him.

That night, Severus Snape unwittingly conceived a child of his own.

**Chapter 1**

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favourite shirt — sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was nine. That was the year I finally put my foot down. These last two summers my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.

Where I was supposed to be going now was a whole new world of hell – it made Forks look like a sunshine state.

The United Kingdom. And no, not the richly cultured part.

Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond — a volleyball player, or a mini-cheerleader, perhaps — all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself — and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close.

Why was I suddenly moving to the other side of the world? Well, the main reason was for my mother's convenience. When she met Phil, her whole world seemed to light up and she became a whole new, revitalised woman. They were totally in love; it was plain for anyone to see. The only catch in their relationship was that Phil travelled a lot due to his job, and so mom really wanted to go with him but couldn't do that with a schoolgirl tagging along behind.

The other, less believable reason was apparently I'm a witch, and I'd been accepted into a prodigious Wizarding school called Hogwarts, situated someplace in Scotland, where they invited me to board 'on campus' for the school year.

They sent their letter by owl, no less.

To be honest, I was just going on faith that this wasn't some elaborate kidnapping/cult thing some sickos had going on over there. But, my mom's happiness really meant a lot to me, so I was going into self-exile.

I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city.

"Bella," my mom said to me — the last of a thousand times — before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

My mom looks like me, except with short hair and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still…

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now.

"The time will go by quickly," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want — I'll come get you as soon as you need me."

But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was gone.

It was an eleven hour flight from Phoenix to London, give or take. But it wasn't the flight I was nervous about – it was getting myself acquainted with this 'Wizarding World' that up til last week I had no knowledge about. The letter indicated there would be someone waiting for me at the airport to escort me about the countryside and get my school things, bank account, etc.

When I got through customs and out into the crisp, London air, I looked around at the taxi cabs to see if anybody was holding up a sign with my name on it. Nobody was, but there was a rather tall man at a small park across the three-lane highway, and he appeared to be attracting a serious amount of attention from passers-by.

His hair was a greasy black, he had a large, hooked nose and he wore a billowing black robe that gave me the distinct impression of an overgrown bat; and since he seemed most likely to fit the bill of 'wizard' I walked over to him, too tired to remember to give way to oncoming traffic.

It wasn't a problem though, since I somehow managed to miss all the cars on the road by about two steps without realising what I was doing. Once I was safely across, I stifled a yawn and approached the gloomily dressed man. "Hello, sir. Are you waiting for anybody in particular?"

The man scowled down his hooked nose and replied, "As a matter of fact, I am. So, if you're not Isabella Swan, I suggest you leave and go bother somebody else."

His flat response was a little off-putting, and in my tiredness, I tried to remain patient with the rude man. "That's me. The strange letter said there would be someone to pick me up from the airport to get school supplies and a bank account."

"Very well," he replied. "Follow me, Miss Swan."

I secretly wondered if I was to expect such animosity from the majority of people at this new school.

"I'm sorry, but I can't go with you," I said, mustering up some boldness. "With all due respect, you're a stranger and I don't have anybody to verify if any of the information I've received is true."

The man rolled his eyes and muttered, "Muggle-borns!" before he addressed me directly.

"Miss Swan, whatever ruse you believe this to be, I assure you the headmaster of Hogwarts has better things to do than play cruel, elaborate pranks on foreign children. As for me, I am Professor Snape, the Potions Master of Hogwarts, and your scepticism is entirely of no use to you at this point, since you are well out of the safety of home."

He had exceptional reasoning skills, and so after a short moment I conceded his point. "Alright. Though, you can't blame me for trying not being a total _fool_ about it, sir."

"Indeed," Professor Snape responded drily. "Come."

The Potions Master took me to a secluded part of the park, and warning bells went off in my head once more. But before I could mention anything, the man took a tight grip of my arm, made a half-turn on the spot and at once, there was a horrible sensation that I was being squeezed through a thick rubber tube. I could not draw breath, every part of me was being compressed almost past endurance and then, just when I thought I must suffocate, the invisible bands seemed to burst open, and the two of us were standing in the middle of a crowded alley. Snape immediately let go of my arm, and in my panicked state I punched him in the gut and ran, luggage and all.

"GIRL!"

I looked over my shoulder to see how far behind me the furious man was, and slammed straight into – "Everythin' alright lass?"

A giant, wild-looking man asked as he scooped me off the ground. I shook my head and made to run again, but he took a hold of my shoulders and wouldn't let go. "Whoa, there! You have no idea where yer going, do ya, girl?" His eyes gazed down at me in concern. They were black, but twinkling and warm in an odd way.

And then I noticed something on the ground beside me. It must have fallen out of his grasp when I knocked into him. I picked it up carefully. It was a small, grubby package, wrapped up in brown paper. There could've been a rock in it for all I knew.

"Uh, here, sir. Is this yours?"

And then it was snatched from my hands and tucked in one of the man's pockets.

"Oh! Thank ye lass, I –I wouldn't wanna lose that – I only just withdrew it from Gringotts, n' Dumbledore would be so cross with me if I lost it, like ye wouldn't believe!"

"You work for Dumbledore, too?"

"Aye, I do. You a new student, then?"

"MISS SWAN!"

Slowly, I turned around to face the man I'd hit. He stalked over to me and the wild man, and greeted him cordially. "Hagrid. Thank you for apprehending this… delinquent."

The man called Hagrid nodded to us and left without a word.

I looked up into Snape's cold eyes as he appeared to scrutinize me.

"I'm very sorry for hitting you, sir. I… had a shock. I'm normally not a violent person. Are you… are you alright?"

"I will be when this day is over and you are out of my hair," he muttered darkly, and I swallowed.

"Where to first, sir?"

He pursed his lips and strode away, and I hurried after him.

That was how I spent most of my first day as a witch.

I'd been set up to stay at an inn, or pub or whatever until September 1st, when Snape would arrive once more to take me to King's Cross Station – hopefully not teleporting us there, as he did this morning. Frankly, I was exhausted after shopping with the man, and made a point of going straight to bed. I would read all my textbooks over the next few weeks. Hopefully that would make up for the complete and utter lack of grace in all my dealings at Diagon Alley. I'd pretty much gawked at everything and everyone I saw, from the cauldrons to the 'familiars' (magical pets that have a special connection with their owners) to the moving photographs on the textbooks, much to Professor Snape's ire.

He was a man of little patience, at least with me. When I had asked him why we'd apparently travelled back to the medieval age, he snapped at me to "Be quiet, this isn't a tour!"

I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

When I finally fell asleep, the dream I had was unsettling, at best. Everything was a washed out green or grey, and Professor Snape was screaming at me and giving me detentions for showing up to school without any of my books or robes.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage.

I spent the last six weeks of my holiday reading every book Snape had bought for me – if I had one redeeming quality, it was my photographic memory. It made up for my mom's hare-brained behaviour so much, she'd given me the nickname, "my middle-aged daughter," since my sensibility and my memory always made me look so much more mature than her.

She was always trying to get me to 'have more fun' but since I didn't socialise well with others, it was tricky – that was probably more due to the fact that my interpretation of fun was reading up on Latin or the Victorian Language of Flowers, which for my age, made my friend base fairly small. I tried, though. I always tried to please my mom.

So, as I read about the different names for wolfsbane, like monkshood and aconite, it was Renee that I thought of.

Now I was here, I was going to commit.

And with that attitude, the time passed quickly. Before I knew it, Snape was knocking at my door, calling for me to hurry up.

I opened the door to my bedroom. It was spotless, and my luggage was packed neatly, my own grooming flawless. He appeared mildly appeased by this, and did something to my belongings that shrank them before grabbing my arm and teleporting us to Kings Cross Station – well, in the bushes, around the corner and away from innocent eyes. After finding me a trolley and bringing my luggage to its correct size, Professor Snape gave me a quick set of instructions.

"Miss Swan, you are to go inside and walk through the barrier separating Platform Nine and Ten. Be quick and careful about it – I think you may understand a Muggles reaction to things that are out of the ordinary. Here's your ticket," he said, passing me a ticket stub for the Hogwarts Express train. "I'll be seeing you at school," and with that he was gone. A little nervously, I made my way inside, and spotted a few more of 'my kind' doing just as he said.

It was far easier to follow the red-haired boys in than I'd expected – I just copied what they did, getting a little running start and going straight through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. And tripped and fell flat on my face, items flying everywhere.

A boy with a pale, pointed face and slicked back platinum blonde hair was standing nearby, and he laughed at the whole commotion before turning and boarding the train.

"What a loser!"

I sat up, dusted myself off and sighed, looking at my belongings all over the place in bemusement. "Better get everything back in the trolley."

And without another prompt, the fallen items flew back into the trolley, organizing themselves neatly while I watched in awe.

I turned to one of the red-haired boys that had seen the whole thing. "Was that you?"

He shook his head and smiled. And then another red-haired boy came up beside him, smiling too. "Not me either. That was all you, love."

I frowned. No, that couldn't be right. I'd never been able to do anything like that before. And then I noticed the boys in front of me properly.

"Do I have another concussion? Or are there actually two of you?"

The one on the left spoke first. "I'm Fred Weasley."

"And I'm his twin brother, George."

"So no, you're not seeing double," Fred smirked.

"But you should probably get that bruise on your head looked at anyway." George pointed to my forehead.

"Can you tell us your name?"

"Isabella Swan," I told the twins. "But I go by Bella."

"Well, Bella," Fred helped me to my feet (admittedly I felt a little woozy) while George took my trolley, "come with us and we'll look after you. You can stay in our compartment. Lee's there, too, but if you don't mind spiders, you'll be fine."

Truth be told, spiders were fine by me, and I told them so before promptly falling asleep.

"What do you think we should do with her?" George asked his brother.

Fred held the tiny thing in his arms – she really was very light, even for someone her age – and shrugged. "She's a bit precious, isn't she, George?"

"Very delicate indeed, Fred."

"I think we'll keep her," the older twin announced officially, and George was quick to agree.

While Lee Jordan was preoccupied with showing a bunch of girls his pet tarantula, the twins slipped past and deposited the first-year girl onto the bench seat opposite theirs, tucking her baggage away before another first-year caught their attention. He was having trouble with his trunk. Poor sod.

"Want a hand?" George drew up beside the boy.

"Yes, please," the boy panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, his trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said the first year, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the Twins suddenly, pointing at the boy's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other Twin. "Are you –?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to the stunned boy.

"What?"

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," he said. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawped at him and the boy blushed red.

Then, to his apparent relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum!"

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train to give their mum a final goodbye.

By the end of the train trip, the Weasley Twins felt it was necessary to panic. Since Bella had fallen asleep, none of them had been able to wake her up. The train lurched to a stop and Fred, George and Lee Jordan looked at the still unconscious girl.

"This isn't good," Fred said with a hint of strain in his voice.

"She could be in a coma," George said, worried.

Lee scratched his head. "I'll see if I can get the first carriage to the school and warn Madam Pomfrey."

At that particular moment, Bella finally opened her eyes and stared at the three worried boys. "Um, hi. Are we there yet?"

Lee was the first to recover. He stuck out his hand. "Lee Jordan. How are you?"

She shook it and smiled ever so slightly. "I'm okay now. This has happened before. After a concussion, rest is usually the first and best thing to happen for the recovery of the brain. Thank you all for looking after me, though, I appreciate it."

The three third-years guided their new little friend off the train onto the platform, the Twins holding one hand each while Mr Jordan led the way over to another pair of first years.

"Harry! Ronniekins!" the Twins chorused, much to their younger brother's annoyance.

Fred and George took the boys' hands and had them hold Miss Swan's hands.

"First years take the boats," Fred explained, and George finished seriously, "Don't lose her. She's precious."

The three first-years blushed all the way to their ears, and the third-years grinned at them before walking away to find the carriages.

Soon, a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and I heard a familiar voice: "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! All right there, Harry?" It was that wild man from the alley!

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, we followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark either side of us that I thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. There was a sort of awkward, buck-toothed, bumbling boy that sniffled once or twice, but that was it.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron and I were joined by the bumbling boy, while a bushy-haired girl seemed to look on in a huff and join another boat.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then – FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over us as we sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; we all bent our heads and the little boats carried us through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. We were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reached a kind of underground harbour, where we clambered out on to rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" the awkward boy cried blissfully, holding out his hands. Then we clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and my first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The Entrance Hall was so big you could have fitted the whole of Charlie's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts (the Wizarding bank where Professor Snape had first taken me to open an admittedly paltry bank account before huffily deciding to pay for all my school items), the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing us led to the upper floors.

We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. I could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall. We crowded in, standing rather closer together than we would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"We were invited here," I reasoned to my terrified peers, who seemed to settle down a bit. "If we had to do a test or exam just to get in, well that would make it pretty redundant, wouldn't it?"

"You obviously don't have any idea about the Wizarding world if you think it's all supposed to be easy," sneered the blonde boy from the train station. "You're probably nothing more than a Mudblood!"

Most of the first years gasped, like he'd just said the 'f' word. I shrugged. "Well, whatever that means, you'd probably be right. When they sent me this letter, I honestly believed it was some international kidnapping cult scam or something. I know nothing about witches and wizards unless you count The Wizard of Oz."

Harry chuckled beside me, and winked. "Ding, dong, the witch is dead!"

"Which old witch?" I asked in mock puzzlement.

"The wicked witch!" he exclaimed with a grin.

The two of us started singing together, and some of the other 'Mudbloods' began to join us, like that bushy-haired girl, for one.

"Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.

Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.

Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead. She's gone where the goblins go,

Below - below - below. Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out.

Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.

Let them know  
The Wicked Witch is dead!"

The blonde boy was looking like he couldn't choose between indignation or being intimidated by the amount of people he'd apparently insulted, while the rest of us had found a little courage from our own silliness and were smiling at the song.

Then something happened which made us all jump about a foot in the air – several people behind me screamed.

"What the –?"

I gasped. So did the people around me. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing.

What looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them.

"About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!' said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first-years, "and follow me."

All that courage seemed to leave me, and I mutely stepped in line between Harry and Ron, who both looked about as nervous as me, and we walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

I had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first-years up here, so that we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind us. The hundreds of faces staring at us looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, I looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

My breath was stolen away. "Whoa," I whispered, and tried to figure out if the stars were real, with real constellations, or if it was some sort of fancy trick.

I heard the huffy Mudblood girl whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

I quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Mom would've tried to mend it and put yellow or blue ribbons all over it to make it look more cheerful.

But of course, thinking of mom and where she and Phil could be now (probably somewhere sunny) made me sad, so I distracted myself by trying to figure out where George, Fred, and Lee were sitting. It was hard to see; the candles weren't illuminating much at the moment.

Noticing that everyone seemed to be looking at the old hat, I focussed my gaze on it too.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. I think I could understand his concern. Although wearing a Talking Hat seemed a much better option than fighting a troll, I was the sort of girl that didn't enjoy standing out amongst large crowds. He actually looked a little queasy himself, and so I squeezed his hand briefly and started to whisper. "As Mayor of the Munchkin City, in the County of the Land of Oz, I welcome you most regally! – But we've got to verify it legally, to see -"

A smile crept back on his face and he tilted his chin slightly in my direction. "To see?"

"If she-" I prompted

"If she?"

"Is morally, ethically-"

"Spiritually, physically-"

"Positively, absolutely-"

"Undeniably and reliably Dead!" Harry finished, a wide grin stretching across his cheeks.

I patted him on the shoulder and said, "It won't last long. You'll be fine. We'll all be fine, no matter where we go."

"But you better be in Gryffindor!" Ron hissed at the two of us.

I shrugged. I didn't exactly believe I was cut out for that House, but we'd see soon enough. I just wanted to do well, now I was starting to see this whole Wizarding World may be very real, indeed.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat (which fell right down over her eyes), and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. I saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; I could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought they looked an unpleasant lot.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, I noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus", the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

The huffy, bushy-haired girl almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR", Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag".

Malfoy, the blonde, pompous brat I found out, swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon" ... "Nott" ... "Parkinson" ... then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" ... then "Perks, Sally-Anne" ... and then –

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

I looked around at the whispering faces, trying to figure out what was so special about my new friend. I couldn't figure it out, and decided to simply shrug it off. If it was important, I was sure I'd find out sometime. The hat began to mutter quietly to the boy, and I watched as his hands took a firm grip of the stool beneath him, as though strongly protesting whatever the hat was saying to him. After another short conversation between the two of them, the hat finally shouted out "GRYFFINDOR!"

He took off the hat and walked shakily towards the Gryffindor table. He was getting the loudest cheer yet, though he didn't seem to notice. A red-haired prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff we'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, and the poor boy looked like someone had just doused him in ice.

"Swan, Isabella!" McGonagall called, and I walked towards the hat as cautiously as I could to the cheers of the Weasley twins and my new friends.

When the black hat slipped over my head, she started muttering immediately. "Oh, you're a breath of fresh air, aren't you? Rare, indeed…" she mused and I slouched a little, failing to understand her.

"Dearie, you're not like the others here."

"Oh that," I responded quietly. "I already know I'm a Mudblood."

"WHAT?!" the hat screamed, and I flinched. "Oh, I know exactly who would have said that," she muttered crossly, "and I know exactly what to do about it. Bella Swan, you're one of the rarest witches in the world. Muggle-born you may be, but magic will come to you more naturally than it will for anybody here. You're what the history books refer to as a _Primus Maga_. I know all your friends are in Gryffindor, dear, but I'm sorry to say that's not the house you shall be in. It's for your good, and the betterment of your new House. You'll bring the biggest change to the house of SLYTHERIN!"

The Hall was in an uproar. Half the Weasley family plus Lee and Harry called foul when I took off the Sorting Hat with a stunned look on my face. It seemed the Slytherin House was just as shocked. I made my way over to my new table, greeted by no one except the Slytherin ghost, on the other side of the horrible blonde boy. The ghost simply nodded and didn't move away when I took my seat beside him.

Draco was the first to call out, "But she can't be in Slytherin! She's a Mudblood!"

The Hall had fallen into total silence. I had a clear view of the High Table now and of Headmaster Dumbledore's expression at the disgusting outburst.

I had to fix this, save the stupid boy before he got turned into a toad by the Headmaster and given to Neville as a friend for Trevor. I stood up on my chair and my voice immediately magnified, as though I were a circus announcer. Spreading my arms wide, I smiled.

"WELCOME, ONE AND ALL, FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE:

THE TAINT OF SLYTHERIN HOUSE; THE ONE, THE ONLY, _the first:_" I grinned madly at Draco and winked, "MUDBLOOD SLYTHERIN, BELLA SWAN! VENGEANCE AT LAST! Thank you," I bowed to the Weasley twins, "Thank you!" I bowed to Headmaster Dumbledore, "Thank you," I bowed to McGonagall and the Hat before sitting down. The latter was the first to laugh, followed by Dumbledore and the Gryffindors. The Slytherins did not laugh. They glared. Well, except for the ghost. He gave me another nod, though what it meant, I had no clue.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Turpin, Lisa" became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. I crossed my fingers under the table for the boy and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

I sighed a sigh of relief. "Zabini, Blaise" was last, and made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore had got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see us all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered, though I was confused. Really, the man had nothing more to say? Maybe he was a little whacked in the head.

And that's when I noticed the dishes in front of us were piled up with food. "This is like the movie, Hook," I muttered in awe. The ghost was the only one to acknowledge me – if an empty stare counted. Draco looked very uncomfortable sitting on the fellow's other side, but I figured I'd make the most of it.

Hmm, he looked like he could've spoken Latin, judging by the era of his clothes. While serving my plate, I turned casually to him and said, "Si post fata venit gloria non propero. Da mihi viridi fabam? *(If glory comes after death, I am in no hurry. Give me the green beans?)"

For some reason, the low, throaty chuckle that emanated from the Slytherin ghost was a shock to those who heard it, including a couple other ghosts.

He replied, "Vos obtinere eos, subdola puella! *(You get them, sly girl!)"

I did, and he deigned to continue talking to me. "Isabella Swan. Bella puella pulchra nomen habes. *(You have a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.)"

Blushing, I changed the subject. "Vestimenta tua pollutae sunt sanguine et. Sed infra vulnus non video. Ad quem proprium hunc sanguinem? *(Your clothes are stained with blood. But I do not see a wound beneath them. To whom does this blood belong?)"

The ghost looked down his nose at me, like I had just spat on his family's grave.

But then, to my surprise he answered.

"De Graius Domina. In furore meo, me dilectus meus interfecti. Dolórem meumego accepit animam ipse. Et paenitentiae catena hac circumdatus sum. Pro scelere meo, sicut et cognitus sum Baronis Cruenta. *(The Grey Lady. In my anger, I murdered my love. In my sorrow, I also took my own life. And for penance, I wear these chains. For my crime, I am known as the Bloody Baron.)"

I bowed my head to him respectfully. "Et glorificatus sum in occursum tuum, Una Poenitentis. Tua fama est unus of wo. *(It is my honour to meet you, Penitent One. Your tale is one of woe.)"

He nodded to me once more, accepting the name I had given him, and spoke in a rasp. "And it has been the highest pleasure meeting you, Isabella Swan. Quite… reviving."

The two of us smirked at his joke, and I finished my dinner just in time for it to be magically cleared away and replaced by dessert.

There was a bowl of strawberries and cream, just out of reach, and I knew nobody would be kind enough to pass it to me if I asked. However, just when that thought passed through my mind, the lovely little bowl floated over to me, as though being summoned, and dished out the amount of dessert I wanted before going back to its place.

The Baron eyed me with scrutiny. "Did you know, before a witch or wizard is trained, their magic tends to manifest itself in the form of wishful thinking? Happy accidents and such."

I shrugged. "Nope."

"Of course, mine was usually the result of a tantrum when I was your age. If I was worked up enough, I could make my cousins choke on their cravats until an adult came to free them."

My eyebrows rose, but I said nothing.

"Your natural magic, though, is quite controlled," he continued while I ate my dessert. "When did you begin to manifest?"

"Erm, this morning, as far as I can tell," I told him in a hushed tone, but apparently Draco had been eavesdropping. "Liar!" he cried.

The Baron flipped in an instant. One moment, he was a tragic, if creepy ghost, the next he was positively demonic. All his features were contorted and exaggerated, and I couldn't help but think of all the times Jacob Black (a childhood holiday friend from the reservation close to Forks) invited me over and we'd sneak over to his friend's place to watch scary movies. There'd been this one where some guy was possessed by an evil, murderous spirit, and up until the moment he was discovered by the rest of his family, he'd twitch and his face would shift and distort into this scary face for a second or two.

This was exactly like that. The Baron's eyes had gone black, his mouth agape and moaning as his chains flew about wildly while the air around him darkened, the enchanted candles going out. First-years all around would have nightmares for the rest of the year. I put one hand in his, ignoring the horrible chill and said, "Baron. That's probably not helping. Besides, if I want to be angry at him, that's my decision, not yours."

Baron was himself again, as was the Hall. "My apologies, child. You're quite right. If you do need me, for anything at all, I am at your service."

Draco was white, and he didn't speak another word for the rest of the meal while the Baron and I resumed our conversation, moving onto school subjects and what to expect.

At last, the puddings too disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term.

Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

And finally, I must tell you that this year; the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

I personally thought if the madman gave me a warning, I sure as heck wasn't gonna laugh about it.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. I noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself into snake-like words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Bloody Baron glided along at my side as the Slytherin prefect, a brutish-looking young man by the name of Felix Brunt II led us downwards to the dungeons. The ghost and I had moved onto the subject of my home. My Latin was perfect, but as we spoke in English, he'd obviously picked up on my accent. When I told him I was actually from Phoenix, Arizona, I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, isn't it?" he asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"I wonder what that must be like?" he mused.

"Sunny," I told him.

"You don't look very tan."

"My mother is part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humour didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.

I paid less attention to where we were going than to not trip over my feet in exhaustion, and by the time we stopped in front of a gargoyle I felt as though my feet were ready to drop off.

Felix told us to remember the password, which was "Parseltongue," and the gargoyle shifted, letting us in. Augh, so much green! I'd probably be insane after staying here for an entire school year. The Baron bowed to me and left while the little Slytherins rushed through the open doorway to find the best beds.

The girls were directed through one door, and so I followed, only to find all the dormitories full. One room had three first-year girls and one bed they claimed was exclusively for their baggage, so after checking every room and being turned away, I headed back to the empty common room and sank bitterly into one of the high-backed chairs with a sigh. Those girls could stay in there to rot, for all I cared.

Suddenly, a wall of stone slammed up between the common room and the girls' dormitories, and a green tapestry rolled down in front of it. I pursed my lips. Well, good. Now I just needed my things and a place to sleep. I wondered if there was anyone in this castle who could do that…

With a loud pop, a small, strange creature dressed in what looked like a grotty old pillowcase bowed to me and brought me my baggage. "Sooty the house elf at Bella's service, miss. Would miss like to sleep elsewhere tonight?"

I stared a little at the friendly thing and finally whispered, "Is that allowed?"

The creature nodded eagerly, and its giant ears flopped about like bat wings.

"Sooty can take miss to a spare bed with her friends tonight, and then make better arrangements tomorrow."

"Thank you, Sooty," I smiled. "You are very thoughtful."

Sooty bowed over and over, thanking me profusely for my kind manners, before taking my hand in one of hers and my baggage in the other. With a loud pop, we were gone.

CRACK!

Lee stopped snoring briefly, then rolled over and went back to sleep. The Weasley Twins however (since they were always on high alert for budding pranksters), were out of bed and pointing their wands at the intruder within moments.

"Who goes there?" Fred hissed into the darkness.

"Tell us, before we're forced to do something cruel and unusual!" George added.

"The girls kicked me out of the dorm," a familiar voice said shakily. "Do you mind if I stay here tonight?"

"Bella?" Fred lowered his wand, while George lit his with a quiet spell, illuminating the wide-eyed first-year. "Yep, it's her."

"How did you get in here," the older twin began.

"Without a password?" the other finished in a loud whisper.

The girl shrugged. "I teleported with Sooty, the house elf."

"You mean Apparated," corrected Fred.

"Side-Along Apparated, with the house elf," George said.

"Will you let me stay?" her voice trembled. The Twins ushered her to the bed, and Fred gave her his bottom bunk.

"Course you can stay, love," he said.

"We wouldn't have it any other way."

"Loved your speech tonight, by the by."

"And when you set the Baron on Draco so he soiled his robes!"

"He's a pompous little git, isn't he George?"

"And his father a Death Eater, did you know?"

"What's a Death Eater?" Bella asked, interrupting the Twins' rant.

"You don't know?" they chorused loudly.

"Shuddup," Lee grumbled, and the Weasley Twins sighed.

"He's right," Fred whispered, tucking the girl in snugly.

"It's late," George said after he planted a kiss on the girl's head.

Fred kissed her on the cheek. "Get some rest, Belly-boo."

"Ask us at breakfast," George added with a smirk.

"Sleep well," they sang together before disappearing into their own beds.

Bella dozed off quickly, and didn't dream a thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Fred and George gave me the run-down of Hogwarts at breakfast the next morning, talk of Death Eaters forgotten in favour of helping me find my way around the enchanted castle.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also a difficult task remembering where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other and I was informed the coats of armour could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either, Lee piped in. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors (and me on extension) in the right direction, but Peeves the poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop waste-paper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Filch owned a cat called Mrs Norris, a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins who had a secret map they used to get around the school undetected in the name of pranking) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the lessons themselves. There was a lot more to magic, George told me, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

We had to study the night skies through our telescopes every Thursday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week we were to go to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where we learnt how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring lesson was History of Magic, which was the only class taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff-room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while students scribbled down names and dates and most of the class got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He made me think of the munchkins whenever I saw him. I heard at lunchtime that in the Gryffindors first lesson, he took the register, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. I had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave us a talking-to the moment we had sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. We were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realised we weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After making a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.

Mine changed exactly the way it was supposed to, which was a cause for alarm to a lot of people, including me. "Must've been a fluke," I muttered when Professor picked up my needle and gave me a rare smile. "Oh, I assure you, Miss Swan, if there's ever a fluke in Transfiguration it tends to err on the side of 'horribly wrong.' Now, everyone, this is the end result you are aiming for." As she went on with her lesson, Draco caught my eye and gave me a dirty look, mouthing the word 'cheat.'

"It is quite unfortunate," McGonagall said suddenly, "that none of the other Slytherin girls have shown up for classes today. They are missing quite a lot of important ground work in what I have heard is a protest against one of the new students in their house." She looked quite cross as she said that. Oh dear Lord, I'd left them there and forgotten them entirely.

I was on edge for the rest of the lesson, and as soon as we were set free to go to dinner, I bolted from the classroom and headed straight for the Great Hall. I ran directly to the High Table where Dumbledore should have been sitting, only he wasn't there. Snape was, however, and he snapped at me. "What do you want, Swan?"

Well, he was the Head of Slytherin House. I straightened up and walked along the table to stand in front of the Potions Master. "I need your help, sir."

"With what?" He peered down his hooked nose at me.

"Getting rid of a wall, sir. The girls are all trapped in their dorms."

Snape practically growled at me before leaving the table, grabbing me by the arm and leading me down to the dungeons.

"Parseltongue!" he snapped at the gargoyle, who shifted for him and when we both entered the common room, all the boys were crowded around a green tapestry on the wall, from which was emanating screams and bangs. Snape's eyes widened, and then narrowed in anger – at me.

"After this matter has been settled, you will wait for me in my office, Miss Swan," the professor said in a strained voice. The boys heard him and smirked, parting way for the man to step forward and get rid of the wall. Only, it didn't budge. None of his spells seemed to have any effect on the wall.

"Swan! Get over here! This was your doing, so you will undo it!"

With trembling knees, I stepped to the front of the crowd and pressed my hand against the wall. I didn't really know what to say, but it was worth a shot. "Please let them out," I whispered.

The wall rumbled, and slowly receded back into the floor, as though it were reluctant to do so. I stepped out of the way as a small army of Slytherin girls ran right out of the common room, screaming.

"Where are you-?"

"They probably need to pee, sir," I said from beside him and he scowled down at me. "Go. Now."

I went, noting the malicious glee on Draco's face as I passed him by.

When Severus Snape entered his office, the tiny slip of a girl stood waiting, still as a statue.

"Sit down," he ordered, long strides carrying him to the chair behind his desk.

"I saw you dining with the Weasley twins this morning. Did they put you up to this?"

"No, sir."

"So you admit this malicious attack against your own house was your own doing?" he sneered.

Her gaze flicked up to him and she seemed hesitant for a moment. "Yes, sir."

At least she wasn't arguing with him, he observed. Perhaps he would allow the girl to explain herself.

"Why?"

"No reason you would consider worth the offence, sir."

He'd never had a student so willing to agree with him, and it irked the Potions Master like you wouldn't believe. It was almost like she was doing this deliberately, to appease him.

"I am not without reason, Miss Swan. Explain yourself, before I consider my generosity wasted."

She sighed. "I was banished from the girls' dorms. I checked every room, and where there were spare beds they told me it was for the luggage and threatened to hex me if I stayed around."

"Which rooms? Which girls?" the Head of House would not let her off that easily.

"All of them. Sir. Like I said, I was banished." The sharpness in her eyes at that confession softened and she looked at her lap once more. "It wasn't my intention to leave them there all day after I realised what happened. I was… angry at them. I need to be more careful about what I think, sir."

"Very well. See to it that you do. You may go now."

She shot up and stared at him in awe. "You're not going to expel me?"

Snape chuckled darkly. Ah, so that was it. "No, Miss Swan. They would not let you in, so you did not let them out. Fair is fair, and your punishment is going to bed tonight without dinner."

He did not expect the hug. "What are you doing?"

The girl picked up on his tone and let him go, straightened up and brushed off her robes.

"Leaving, sir."

He raised his eyebrows at her, and watched as she got all the way to the door before some invisible force seemed to stop her. "What is it now, Swan?" He asked a little irritably.

She half-turned towards him and asked in a sad, sort-of toneless voice. "Does it make a difference, being a Muggle-born?"

Silence met her.

Severus Snape was so shocked – she sounded exactly like Lily did at her age, asking the same exact question… It shook him to the core.

He looked at his lap in shame, unable to speak for several long moments.

Finally, he remembered he had to answer her. "No. It doesn't make any difference."

But when his gaze lifted up the first year was gone, a single teardrop in her place.

_The Filthy Mudblood Slytherin Sleeps Here_

Those were the words charmed into a plain wall in the Slytherin common room as I walked in. I was already miserable at Professor Snape's lack of response, and this was just another straw on the camel's back. I stared at the wall angrily. A blanket lay on the floor beneath the charmed words. Felix the Prefect leant against the wall with a smirk.

"Here ya go, little runt. I made it special, just for you. You trapped my girlfriend in those dorms today, did you know?" His sing-song voice had a hint of malice behind it.

"Go on, lie down on yer bed," he ordered, and I did as he asked, because if he couldn't hex me, he could probably just beat me up. He snorted, and then spat on the ground close to my face.

"Sweet dreams, bitch," he taunted, leaving me alone in the room. I waited ten seconds after he'd gone, and then sat up. I leaned against the plain wall. And fell straight through.

"Ow!"

From my position on the floor, I blinked and looked up. The large, round eyes of Sooty stared back down at me, an upside-down frown on her face. "Sooty is very sorry!"

She immediately put her hands in the fireplace, picked up two burning coals and squealed in pain. I raced over to her, shook the coals from her hands and pulled the poor creature into my arms.

"What the heck did you do that for?" I scolded her, and giant, round teardrops formed in her eyes. "Sooty had to punish herself, miss. Her mistress was hurt because of Sooty-"

I cut her off. "Who? Where is she? Can I help?"

"Who is Sooty's mistress?" the house elf asked, as though I were being absurd. "Isabella Swan is Sooty's mistress!"

My mouth fell open, and I fumbled for words, looking around the room. The room? It had a desk, a small dining table for four and a cauldron – my cauldron that Snape bought for me; and an extravagant mahogany wardrobe that stood open, with all my belongings tucked neatly inside. I peered at every corner of the room – there was another door to an ensuite in one of them. And the bed, Lord, the bed! It had to be at least a King sized bed, though what for, I had no idea. The quilts were stitched in gold and brown, lovely warm colours. There were green tapestries on the walls, but probably only because I was still in Slytherin. But I had to check. "Where are we, Sooty?"

"In a secret room, miss. Sooty told you she would make better arrangements, and that is just what Sooty has done! The room is charmed so no one can hear from outside, and no one can get in who's not allowed by Miss Swan. Sooty made it just for her mistress, and," she said, eyes twinkling, "She made a secret corridor. It leads straight to her friends! Sooty thought this would please the mistress."

I smiled at the little house elf. "Sooty, well done! You are the best house elf any witch or wizard could have!"

Sooty bowed three times before I stopped her. "Sooty, if I give you an order, that means you have to obey, doesn't it?"

The little creature nodded so much I thought her head might fall off.

"Then my first order for you is to never deliberately harm yourself again. It wasn't your fault I hit my head, and I'm so naturally clumsy you'd end up with bruises and welts all over, which would make me feel terrible! Do you understand?"

"As my mistress wishes," the house elf said nervously.

"Good. Give me your hands, please."

She placed them palms-up in my hands, and I frowned, concentrating. Then the words spilled from my mouth like a prayer. "_Vulnera __Sanentur__… Vulnera __Sanentur__… Vulnera __Sanentur__…_"

Before our eyes, the giant red welts disappeared, replaced with normal, healthy, house elf skin. I beamed at her, and she looked awed at the new state of her hands.

"Miss Swan is a most kind mistress. Would my mistress care for some dinner from the kitchen? Sooty knows you missed dinner."

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I'm not supposed to have dinner tonight, since I shut in all those other Slytherin girls."

"Well, would my mistress like to visit her friends, then?"

She seemed pretty insistent, but I shook my head. "Maybe in a week, Sooty. I'll surprise them later. For now, I'd just like to go to sleep."

The little elf bowed and tucked me in before Apparating from my new bedroom with a loud CRACK!

Things were looking up.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to all week was Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days.

His turban, he told us, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but we weren't sure we believed this story.

For one thing, when Blaise Zabini asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, everyone had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

I was very relieved to find out that I wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like me, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Draco didn't have so much of a head start.

On another note, I never ate at my house table for breakfast – it wasn't considered a formal meal, so it mattered less, and I'd often be found sitting between the Weasley twins being brought up to date on the school sport called Quidditch – to my great amusement it involved broom-riding.

Friday was here at last, and I was looking forward to the weekend. I told the Weasley twins so, just before Harry and Ron entered the breakfast table, on time for once. Though, considering it was a more direct route to the dungeons than to the Gryffindor tower, I had to give them credit. It seemed they finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once. When they arrived, I gave them a friendly nod as I ate my fruit salad and muesli covered in yoghurt. The duo sat down on Lee's free side and I listened to their conversation.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin house. They say he always favours them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," said Harry.

I chuckled. Even for all his favouritism, I'd take McGonagall over Snape any day.

Just then, the post arrived. Harry and I had got used to this by now, but it had given us both a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners and dropping letters and packages on to their laps.

Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl, hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note on to Harry's plate. Good for him.

He tore the letter open at once, and after a quick read, borrowed Ron's quill and scribbled back a quick note, sending it away once more with Hedwig.

"If it's not rude of me to ask," I began, "Who sent you your first letter, Harry?"

"Hagrid," he smiled. "He invited me to tea this afternoon at three. You and Ron wanna come, too?"

Hagrid the wild man, groundskeeper of Hogwarts. I smiled widely. "Sure, Harry. That sounds lovely."

I'd never been invited anywhere before by a school friend. I wasn't wildly popular in Phoenix.

Turns out by that afternoon, we'd all be desperately glad for afternoon tea with Hagrid.

Potions with Snape really sucked.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the register, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his brutish friends, Crabbe and Goyle, sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but we caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

I knew the answer as well, of course, but my hand didn't shoot up like Granger's did. Something else about his question made the cogs of my mind work overtime. Asphodel… a lily; _my regrets go with you to the grave_… Wormwood… means 'absence' and symbolises _bitter sorrow_.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but it was clear Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," Harry said quietly.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Snape was bullying him. My temper flared and I stood up, picked up my potions book from where it sat beside Neville's and threw it at the professor's head.

Both Potter and Snape froze in shock at the flying book that hit the professor solidly on the back of his head. Severus picked it up slowly, rubbing the back of his head in surprise.

"Who threw that?" the Potions Master whirled around to face his class, holding up the offending document. Hermione's hand immediately went down.

Miss Swan was standing on top of her seat, her own furious gaze on her teacher.

"I've had enough! All of you, the whole lot of you, are nothing more than glorified bullies! You want to be purists? Go back in time and join the fucking Nazis, cos that's where you belong! And quit bullying the poor boy! It's not his bloody fault he's famous. What a pitiful excuse to tease somebody!"

"Are you finished?" he sneered, and for a moment he was sure her eyes flashed a brilliant white. But then it was gone, and her cheeks were flushed. She nodded.

"Detention tonight, at dinner. You are to wait in my office." He paused. "Five points from Slytherin, for assaulting a teacher."

The Slytherins all glared at her.

"And I'm confiscating your books, seeing as you don't appear to need them except for using as projectile weapons." The girl was silent.

"I expect a response, Miss Swan."

Harry gawked and Hermione's eyes nearly bulged out of her head at what Bella did next.

She sneered and gave Professor Snape the Nazi salute, shouting, "HEIL!" before sitting down.

"Five more points from Slytherin and detentions for the next week, Miss Swan."

The girl looked positively pleased with herself.

Snape was quick to move on with the lesson, beginning with… "For your information,

Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your lack of preparation, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticising almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon.

A loud, "Neville, NO!" came from Miss Swan as she levitated him in the air, sheltering her desk partner from his own bubbling failure. Neville had somehow managed to melt his cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class were standing on their stools while Bella, who had been too busy saving her friend to worry about being drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, grimaced in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over her arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Ten points from Gryffindor for your blatant disregard of the health of your peers!"

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle all laughed as boils popped up on the girl's nose. She was obviously in pain, but she hadn't made a sound.

Snape rounded on her. "And you – Swan – why did you protect him? Were you hoping to get out of detention by being ill? If you weren't already suffering, I'd take another point from your house, but considering your Gryffindor neighbours saw and did nothing either, I shall take the point from them!"

And there it was again – the flash of white light in her eyes. "You!" she growled through clenched teeth.

He glared at the young upstart. "Me! What? Do enlighten us, Isabella! Give us your character study!"

She blinked in surprise, but quickly shook it off and straightened up, seeing this as permission to speak freely.

"You, Professor Snape, are a rude, bitter, resentful, nepotistic man with a chip on both shoulders and a disregard for personal hygiene! Regardless of your brilliance and creativity, it is poorly applied when it comes to the field of teaching, or as a matter of fact, any dealings you have with the children not in your favour. It makes a child seriously wonder why a man as young as you are is in an occupation he so clearly abhors."

There was a pregnant pause as all the students waited for Snape's response. He didn't give any. Bella spoke one last time. "Anyway, since I've obviously caused so much disruption to your plans for the class, I apologise. I'll see you in detention, sir."

She had the levitating Neville trail her out the dungeon doors, leaving the Potions class in stunned silence. Well, Snape thought, he had asked her for a character study. He just didn't realise what a quick study she was.

At a quarter to three, Harry and Ron came into the hospital wing to see if I was able to come out to Hagrid's. Thanks to Madam Pomfrey, I was. Neville had left the hospital wing after Potions class ended, under much insistence from both me and Madam Pomfrey – she had a thing against visitors if the patient was tired or contagious, and I had a thing against gratitude and guilt, which Neville was expressing in sickening amounts. Poor boy was as clumsy as me, so I really couldn't blame him. I just wanted a little peace.

After I was signed out, we left the castle and made our way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked we heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang – back."

Hagrid's big hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let us in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling; a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire and in a corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes on to a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the Forest. And who's yer lady friend, Harry?"

I blushed, and he introduced us. "This is Bella Swan. The Weasley twins introduced us to her, so she's our friend too, but she really hangs out more with them."

"Though I appreciate the tag-along invite," I told him warmly.

Hagrid's black eyes were fixed on me. "Yer that little girl from Diagon Alley. The one runnin' from Professor Snape."

Ron and Harry turned to me as well.

"He was chasing you? What for?" Ron asked.

I half-shrugged. "He had to pick me up from the airport and help me get everything I needed for school. Only, I freaked out when he got me to Side-Along Apparate with him to Diagon Alley. I thought I was gonna die," I told them, "So when he let me go, I punched him in the gut and ran."

"And he let you live?" Ron was gaping.

Once again, I shrugged. "He's got a remarkable amount of self-control, I'll give him that. Unless he just plans on killing me in one of my detentions."

"Professor Snape wouldn't kill a student," Hagrid scoffed.

And then Harry and Ron regaled him with my morning exploits, and the giant man looked at me worriedly. "You shouldn't give him a reason to not like you, Bella. Professor Snape can hold a grudge a long time. Here, take some rock cakes, since you'll be missing dinner."

The rock cakes almost broke our teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. I sat my plate in my lap, magically softening the cakes as Hagrid's attention was on the boys. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry and Ron looked delighted for whatever reason to hear Hagrid call Filch 'that old git'. He'd probably got them in trouble for something ridiculous.

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang some time. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her – Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot – great with animals."

I silently wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose.

While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons,

Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cosy, and whatever it was seemed to intrigue him. I read over his shoulder. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts' goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

"_But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Curious.

"Hagrid!" said Harry. "That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it; Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again, like he was clarifying some piece of information in his mind. I, too, was thinking back on that day. When I knocked into the giant man, he said the package he'd dropped was from Gringotts, and Dumbledore would be mad if he lost it. I still thought it couldn't be more than a rock, so what was so important about a rock that thieves would try and steal it?

As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, me to the dungeons for detention, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse (I refused mine on the basis that missing dinner was a part of my punishment, though once we were halfway back to the castle, I softened their cakes for them as a pleasant surprise), I felt like none of the lessons we'd had so far had given me as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? It seemed pretty likely. Where was it now? Judging by the warning against going into the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side, it was probably in there, behind a great stack of deadly security measures. And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

_I bitterly regret Lily's death…_

Yeah. That seemed likely, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Detention with Snape sucked worse than Potions class with Snape. He knew it, I knew. Snape and Filch were the two Masters of How to Make Children Suffer.

But amidst scrubbing cauldrons by hand with a toothbrush, it gave me the opportunity to think. And ask questions.

"So, who's Lily, sir?"

"Pardon?"

"Unless I'm mistaken, this morning you told Harry that you bitterly regret Lily's death. So, who's Lily, and why would it matter to Harry?"

"You… are far too observant for your own good, Miss Swan. And pushy."

I grinned. "You're avoiding my question. Childhood sweetheart?"

"As your professor, I can choose which questions to ignore and which to answer, thank you very much."

"So, in other words, yes. You could give me straight answers sir, or I could keep making uncomfortable assumptions."

"Or you could be silent and avoid extra detentions."

"I could always find someone else to fill in the gaps. Like Harr-"

"-Lily was his mother. Both his parents were killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Killing Curse was also cast on Harry, but he was protected by his mother's love because she sacrificed herself when she had a choice to run, while He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was killed instead. Or, at least, that is the popular belief. Dumbledore is under the impression that the Dark Lord is not completely dead, and will be returning soon. So. That is the reason for Potter's misplaced fame, and for a great deal of bitterness and resentment you have observed from me. Is that enough information for you, you nosy brat?"

I stood up and stretched, watching the professor watch me. "Done. Next cauldron?"

With a flick of his wand, the clean cauldron was whisked away and replaced by another dirty one. He went back to his marking.

"On an entirely separate note, who's trying to steal the rock that Dumbledore's hiding in the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side?"

"Excuse me? How do you know – never mind. Please, Miss Swan, try to put the Philosopher's Stone out of your mind-"

Snape caught himself too late. I blinked innocently. "I'm sorry, sir, but being an ignorant Muggle-born, I don't see how a rock, even one with a name, could be of any value to a thief."

The professor ran a hand over his face and spoke in the quietly menacing voice he reserved for Gryffindors. "Your attempt at cunning is entirely too blatant, Miss Swan. You would do well not to ask of the subject again."

I sighed, bending over the cauldron to reach the bottom where something had made a layer of crust. When I came up for a breath, Snape was watching me again. I swallowed. "The man who killed Lily. This Dark Lord… would you ever consider telling me his name?"

"Try asking Harry," he said, a sneer in his voice.

Nodding, I went back to work.

After three more cauldrons were cleaned in silence, he called it quits. "You have done enough for tonight. Come back tomorrow after dinner to resume."

I ran a hand through my now greasy hair. "Huh. Well, that explains it."

"Explains what?" Snape asked, clearly irritated that I was still in his presence.

I held up my lank hair and smiled brightly at him. "I guess that shows me for insulting your hygiene."

The professor rolled his eyes. "Don't spend too long in the showers."

He wrote me a note and handed it to me. "In case you come across Filch, Miss Swan."

The man was absurdly inconsistent.

"Continue to look at me that way, and I shall forget that you are still in Slytherin, and therefore under my care."

Oh. Right.

I took the note from him, managed to sneak in a quick side-hug before scurrying away to collect my pyjamas and head off to the girls bathrooms.

Draco and his two friends were in the common room upon my return from the showers.

"Enjoy your detention, Mudblood?"

"Quite, yes," I said lightly, as I stood in front of the entrance to my room, waiting for them to leave. "It was most informative."

"Gaw! You sound just like that know-it-all, Granger!" he said with a delicate snort. His friends laughed along with the joke.

I continued nonchalantly, though I didn't appreciate the way he talked about Hermione. She had a good heart. "You spend much time brewing potions, Draco?"

"Course. Daddy and Uncle Severus are close friends, so I got private lessons with him all the time before school started!"

Nodding sagely, I remarked, "So that must be why you always have your hair slicked back. I mean, with the amount of strange ingredients you'd be subjected to in your life, it's no wonder your hair is so greasy."

Draco snarled at me, and his friends cracked their knuckles. I smiled. "Oh, don't be upset. It's hardly something you can help, is it? Unless you don't bathe regularly, I suppose."

"I bathe every day!" the blonde boy spat, and I held my hands up in a placating manner.

"So, it's obviously the hair products you use, Draco. Easy fix. Just change brands-"

I wasn't really expecting him to tackle me. A hex, maybe. But physical contact? Not so much. Lucky for me, I landed on the blanket that was my 'bed' (sarcasm, much?), and didn't go rolling into my actual room.

"Um," I began awkwardly. "Do you even know how to fight like a Muggle, Draco? Or is this your first time?"

He blushed a lovely shade of pink, and I managed not to giggle at him.

"What… is going on here?" Snape's voice was livid.

"He tripped," I said quickly, pushing Draco off me to cover up my own surprise at the lie, who stood up sheepishly.

"Draco, is this true?" Snape asked. He didn't look like he believed me.

Draco was quick to agree. "Yes, sir. It was an accident."

"And what about this… sign on the wall?"

We looked up at the sign. _The Filthy Mudblood Slytherin Sleeps Here_

"My new bedroom, sir," I replied, not meeting his eyes.

"Oh, I gathered that," the professor said snidely, "but who put it there?"

Malfoy coughed and joined his friends. I tried to shrug nonchalantly. "That would be one of those unsolved mysteries, sir."

"Miss Swan, you are a Slytherin, and to be treated as such! Now, you will either give me the name of the perpetrator, or I shall be forced to question every single person in my own House until the one who did this is named and punished."

I licked my lips tentatively, and glanced at Draco, who merely stared daggers at me. Fine.

"You'll have to question everyone, sir, because I don't know."

"She probably did it herself, sir," Draco sneered. "She was only too happy to shout it out at the Welcoming Feast-"

"Because I didn't want Dumbledore to turn you into a toad and give you to Neville for calling me a Mudblood, you ungrateful brat!" I growled.

Malfoy's mouth snapped shut like a trap.

Snape gave me an odd look. "Since you have made it clear this name makes you uncomfortable, why don't you tell me who wrote this on the wall, Miss Swan? I will make certain they shall not bother you."

"They don't bother me now," I said quietly. "Besides, he's insulting his own House, too, just by admitting there's bad blood here."

The Potions Master smirked. "So you do know who it is."

I smirked right back. "Of course I do. Just like you know things I haven't figured out yet."

Good old Uncle Severus narrowed his eyes, daring me to continue. I stared at Draco and his friends.

"Like, it wasn't a first-year who wrote on the wall. There's no one on my peer level with the _talent_ required."

"Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, go to bed. Miss Swan and I are going to have a little _chat_."

Draco and his cronies shot me a gleeful look on their way to the boys' dormitories.

I sighed. "Really, Professor, we're both tired and cranky. I, for one, would like to catch as much sleep as I can. Can we just procrastinate for one night and run the inquisition tomorrow? In detention, perhaps?"

Severus eyed me, like he was amused at the sight of an eleven-year old that could use big words in a sentence. "Surely you are not content sleeping there another night, Miss Swan?"

"Keeps me humble. Goodnight, Professor."

The man barked a short laugh and crouched down in front of me as I was laying down on the blanket with my eyes closed, waiting for him to leave. "I have not agreed yet, Miss Swan," he whispered. "I may be concerned for your health."

"Don't be," I hissed back. "Go away."

"Isabella," he implored quietly, and he sounded a little hesitant. I couldn't tell, since my eyes were still shut. "Being Muggle-born… it may matter to some people… but it does not matter to me. It does not make any difference at all."

I opened one eye in surprise, and then gave him a little smile. "That's just because you hate everyone equally, sir."

That was the second time he'd laughed tonight, and it made me happy to hear it.

"I have come to a decision," he said at last. Finally! "If you insist on sleeping here, I shall stay by your side."

What! "Oh, for God's sake!"

"What?"

I sat up and faced the professor. "Don't you have better things to do than supervise my bed?"

He smirked. "I did not think you cared so much where I sleep, Miss Swan. Are things, perhaps, not what they seem?"

Telling a half-truth seemed like the best option. "No, I just didn't want you to get all paranoid if I roll over and disappear in the night. The wall's not just charmed, it's booby trapped, too. Sends me to a different room in the castle if I get too close."

"Then we'll swap sides," he said logically.

I held back a sigh. This wasn't going well. "You're gonna sleep in that?"

Aha! He looked mildly uncomfortable. "I'll manage," Snape gritted out, but I shook my head. "Surely you can't sleep with all those buttons?"

Finally, the man huffed and removed his billowing cloak before turning around and swiftly working on his buttons. There were nine buttons from wrist to elbow on each arm, and thirteen from neck to waist at the front. I took a cautious step back, making certain he didn't hear me. He was shrugging out of the outer jacket as I took another step back, and when he untucked the plain white linen shirt from his black slacks, I tripped on the blanket, falling backwards into my room. "Augh!"

The Potions Master swivelled around in shock just as the barrier closed behind me. I rubbed my sore head and looked through the transparent wall at him.

He was running his hands over the wall, as though searching for the trigger to the 'booby trap.'

I grinned. Snape wasn't getting in here anytime soon. And considering it was Friday night, I decided it was the best time to explore.

I would find the secret corridor Sooty had mentioned so I could visit the twins.

Actually, when I found it, I was reminded of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, since I had to almost shut the wardrobe doors on myself before the barrier would let me through into the corridor. I checked. If the doors were open, the barrier would stay shut.

So once I'd figured it all out, I started my way up through the secret corridor to my friends.

"Did you guys mess with my trunk?" Lee Jordan glared at the Twins suspiciously. And rightly so. Fred and George Weasley were notorious for being the number one pranksters of their generation.

The red-haired boys looked up from writing up new ideas for pranks and charms, to smile at their friend. "No," they chorused.

"But if we did," the older began,

"It'd be more exciting than that," finished the younger.

Finishing each other's sentences was common for this particular pair of twins.

Lee didn't know much about how in-sync the Patil twins were with each other, but considering how switched on the Weasley Twins were (like all the time), it hardly surprised the young wizard that they performed as one unit. It must have really been a Weasley thing, Lee thought to himself.

People made fun of the Weasley family (Slytherins, usually, but what would you expect from a bunch of aristocratic gits?) for "having more children than they could afford." Everyone heard the Sorting Hat first night mumble about "another Weasley" when Ron put it on his head.

But Lee believed the reason all the Weasleys were in Gryffindor wasn't because they were Weasleys, but because every Weasley was worth the title. They may have been poor, but they were all very rich in spirit.

Fred and George seemed almost joined at the hip, and were constantly taking advantage of the "twin stereotype" to trick, swindle, and generally confuse everyone, including their own mother. It was commonly thought that one twin was interchangeable for the other. But it was only through experience that Lee knew; of the two jokesters Fred had a more vengeful, sarcastic nature than his younger, gentle-mannered brother. However, they were both a source of light and laughter for anyone exposed to them. And because, like the rest of their family, they would close ranks to defend what was right and honourable Lee knew they were Sorted into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw.

Lee glanced at his two best friends, wondering when they would reveal their next greatest idea…

Bump. There it was again. Bump. His trunk wobbled and jumped. Bang!

The twins stopped what they were doing and looked curiously at Lee Jordan's trunk.

"Sure you haven't hidden something in there and simply forgotten about it?" George asked.

Lee cautiously opened the lid of his trunk – and what else burst out, but a tiny person, of course!

Little Bella Swan peeled off a pair of boxer shorts from her shoulder and stepped out of the trunk delicately, as though this were a perfectly normal occurrence. The third-year boys stared at her.

"Thanks, Lee," she said kindly. "I'll ask Sooty to see if I can't get around that locked trunk thing."

"How-"

"-Did you get here?"

The girl grinned widely. "On the train, just like you."

George smiled at her humour, and Fred rolled his eyes.

Lee reached over and pulled a sock off the girl's head. She smiled gratefully at him and wandered over to Fred's bed, where the Twins were currently sitting. Lee went to sit on his bed on the top bunk and watch the interaction.

"What are you working on?" she tried reading the parchment they had been writing on.

Fred, in a rare display of vindictiveness, rolled up the parchment and held it out of her reach.

"Not until you tell us, Bella."

Her smile faded and she fixed him with a pointed look. "I suppose it's not something I need to know, then."

"Come on Bells," George reasoned, "Why wouldn't you tell us? You just mysteriously showed up for no reason?"

Bella flopped down on the floor and stared up at her friends. "Had class with Snape, then detention with Snape, and I go into my common room, ready for bed, and who else shows up? Snape! Maybe I came here mysteriously to sleep somewhere I won't see the man. And I'm not telling you because it's a proper secret, at least for now, and there may be some kinks to sort out, like Lee's trunk for example."

Fred pursed his lips. "You can't sleep here, Bella. Not tonight."

Bella rose fluidly, nodded to Lee and walked out without a word.

George glared at his brother. "What did you go and say that for?"

"She's hiding something from us."

"So?"

Fred sighed. "Fine, I'll go get her."

I couldn't believe Fred would act like that! I strode out into the Gryffindor common room. This was meant to be my House, damn it, and he treated me like I was actually one of them! A Slytherin. Tears of anger and embarrassment trailed down my face without permission as I paced the common room. Great. Back to being banished to a common room. I was about to go out through the port hole when a voice made me halt.

"Wait."

Fred crept up beside me and took my hand. "Are you crying?"

I shook my head. "Didn't you know? Slytherins don't cry, they have no souls."

The younger twin brushed a couple tears away and pulled me into his chest. "Silly Bella. Slytherins have souls, they're just black, like Snape's."

I choked out a laugh.

Fred's eyes were dark, and he had a strange look on his face.

I ducked my head, unable to meet his gaze. "I think I'll just go back to my room."

"No. Stay. I shouldn't have been mean to you, Bells."

I took a deep breath and blurted, "I have a secret bedroom with a secret corridor that Sooty said leads straight to my friends."

Fred tousled my hair. "Sure you do, Bells. If you did, we'd know about it."

I swatted his hand away. "Sooty made it for me, at the beginning of the week."

His eyes widened. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"No."

By this time, we'd come back into the boys' dorms and George was glaring at his brother while Lee looked at the three of us nervously.

I went to Lee's trunk and climbed in. "Do you wanna see it?"

"See what?" George asked, while Lee just gave me a funny little look and laid back down on his bed.

"Come on, I'll show you!" I pulled them both by the hands and as I fell through Lee's trunk into the secret corridor, the Weasley twins tumbled in after me.

"Ow!"

"Geroff me!"

There was just enough time for me to take them both by the hand before the secret corridor shifted and we were sliding at high speed towards the dungeons.

Well, crap. We were all going to die…

Sooty was one clever house elf. Somehow, instead of crashing at the bottom of the slide, the three of us slowed to a stop just in front of the barrier, and the corridor shifted once more, the floor became a wall and we were pushed into an upright position and through the barrier in the back of the wardrobe. I opened the doors in front of me, and Fred and George followed me out in a daze.

I did a little twirl and smiled. "This is it. This is my room, boys."

Fred's mouth dropped open, and George leaned over and asked, "Does everyone in Slytherin get this treatment? Fred, I think we've been duped!"

"Sooty made it, George. Everyone else gets exactly the same dorms."

The elder twin appeared to be studying the room carefully. "Aha! So that's where you come in, right, Bells?"

He pointed to the barrier on the wall and I nodded.

"So we could go through and have a look?"

"I'd rather if you wouldn't immediately blow my cover," I chided gently, and the twins smirked.

"Come on Bella,"

"They'll all be in bed!"

"Do you know anything about the Philosopher's Stone?" I asked quickly to change the subject.

The Weasley twins exchanged a knowing look and chorused, "Why do you want to know?"

I sat down on my bed and replied, "I have a theory about why the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out-of-bounds."

"Oh?"

"Well, little Isabella, if you collect all those Famous Wizard cards in the Chocolate Frogs-"

"-Ron does-"

"-then there's something about the Philosopher's Stone on Dumbledore's card."

"Well, more of a hint."

"He and a fellow called Nicholas Flamel worked on alchemy together."

I stared at them. "What does alchemy have to do with the Philosopher's Stone?"

Fred and George smiled a wide smile and sat either side of me. "The Philosopher's Stone is said to have astonishing powers of alchemy," Fred said.

"It will turn metal into gold," George added.

"And it makes the Elixir of Life!" Fred smiled.

"So, this Philosopher's Stone can make a person immortal by brewing an elixir from it?"

"Yep!" George nodded.

"And Nicholas Flamel…?" My face scrunched up in concentration.

"Made it!"

"Owns it!"

"And he's nearly seven hundred years old cos he drinks the stuff!"

My eyebrows rose. "Do you think he would've kept it safe at Gringotts?"

"It's likely," Fred agreed.

"One more thing," I said, and the boys sat up straight. "The guy who murdered Harry's parents… this Dark Lord guy, do you know his proper name?"

"Who? Old Moldy-shorts?" Fred asked.

"Moldy-shorts?"

"Nobody says his real name, Bella," George told me seriously. "And only Death Eaters called him the Dark Lord. The Wizarding War scarred a lot of people, and killed more, all because of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. People don't want to be reminded of it."

"Except maybe Dumbledore," Fred clarified. "He says the name like it's just a name. If you really want to know, he'd probably tell you."

"What are Death Eaters? You never told me."

"They were Moldy-shorts' loyal servants, and his soldiers, too. He recruited the majority of them straight out of Slytherin House, stamped a Dark Mark on their left forearm and sent them to do his bidding. They're rotters, the lot of them," George said with disgust.

"Sadistic bastards," Fred spat.

"Not you of course, Bells," George patted my knee affectionately, "you're kind and sweet and precious."

I kissed him on the cheek in thanks.

"Oy! Where's my kiss?" Fred teased, and I smirked. "Where's my compliment?"

"George just gave it to you," he joked, and I giggled before I let out a tremendous yawn.

"Where shall we sleep tonight?" I asked them.

"Here," they answered immediately, and I crawled under the covers. "Come on, then."

The boys needed no other prompting, and followed my lead, practically burying their faces in the soft, downy pillows on either side of me.

"Never felt anything so luxurious in my life!"

"I'm never sleeping in my own bed again!"

I yawned again. "Goodnight Fred, Goodnight George."

"Goodnight Bella," they chorused.

In the morning, the trio were glad to find Lee had left his trunk unlocked, and they burst from it with glee. Lee was up and getting dressed, so Bella scampered from the room after drawing a promise from the boys to meet her at breakfast.

"Where were you two all night?"

"Sleeping over at Bella's," one twin told him nonchalantly.

Lee's eyes widened. "You mean my trunk leads straight to the Slytherin common room?"

"Just about," Fred said with a mischievous grin. "She has a secret bedroom on the other side of the common room wall. We saw it last night."

"Why would she need a secret bedroom?" Lee asked, as he dug under his bed for his wand.

At this, the Twins frowned. "Cos none of the Slytherins like her," George explained sadly.

"They kicked her out of her dorm and she had nowhere to sleep," Fred went on.

"And then she said a house elf made a bedroom just for her, and a secret corridor that leads straight to her friends," finished George.

"Do you think she'll let me see it next time?" Lee asked, wishing he'd gone with them last night.

"It's your trunk, as you say," Fred teased.

"Yeah, no way Bella would refuse. You're her friend too, Lee."

And with that reassurance, they all left to meet with Bella in the Great Hall.

"And just where do you think you're going, girl?"

I turned around slowly at the sound of Filch's voice. "To breakfast, sir?"

"Shouldn't you be coming up from the dungeons for breakfast, rather than down from the towers?" He asked gleefully. The man looked as though he'd won a prize. I simply nodded.

"Under normal circumstances, of course that would be a perfectly reasonable assumption, sir."

He narrowed his gaze at me. "Alright, then. What's your excuse, if you haven't been out of bed at night?"

"Oh, I have, sir, but not by my own choice. The rest of the Slytherins kicked me out of the dorms and make me sleep in the common room on the floor. Only, the wall beside my sleeping spot is booby-trapped so if I get too close I get sent to another part of the castle. Last night I was sent to the Gryffindor common room."

Filch sneered. "What utter rot! Wait until your Head of House hears about this!"

I shrugged. "You don't have to believe me, sir. Professor Snape was there, he saw it happen."

"Indeed, Mr Filch." Snape's sudden appearance beside us made Filch jump slightly, but I merely nodded my head respectfully to the Professor. He continued, "The circumstances concerning Miss Swan being out of bed are quite out of her control. The bullies responsible for such a booby-trap are sure to be weeded out and punished very soon, Mr Filch, and for that task I am sure you would be most suitable." Filch was dismissed, and he shuffled away, grumbling to himself.

"As for you, Miss Swan," Severus turned his attention to me. "I spent the entire night searching up and down the castle for you. Where did you end up sleeping?"

"Like I told Mr Filch, the wall sent me to the Gryffindor common room, sir. I was fortunate enough to be spotted by a couple of fellows who had a spare bed and offered to let me sleep there."

"Foolish girl! And you trusted them?" The Potions Master looked as though I'd just told him I'd gone to sleep beside a dragon. "Anything could have happened to you!"

I nodded. "Sure, I trusted them. Sir, of all the reputations to watch out for at this school, so far the only people I've ever had reason to fear are in my own House."

"And what if the wall sends you somewhere out of bounds next time, hmm?"

I shrugged. "I'll just turn invisible and get back to safety, I suppose."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Just turning invisible is not something a witch at your age is capable of achieving, Miss Swan. Our best bet is to do something about your sleeping arrangements. Come. I will escort you to breakfast."

It was difficult to hold back my sigh of disappointment but somehow I managed.

To my surprise, Snape walked a half-step behind me, rather than stalking off ahead in his usual manner.

"It has come to my attention that you've been spending your morning meals with the Weasley twins in Gryffindor, Isabella. Allow me to correct you now and tell you that doing this only harms your chances of friendship with anyone in Slytherin. If you hope to better your in-house relations, you'll need to make the extra effort to spend time with your housemates."

"But-"

"But nothing, Miss Swan! You are a talented individual and you belong in my House. If you do not make the effort to build relationships with your peers, I will be forced to make those connections for you."

"I have friends my age," I told him sharply.

"In Slytherin?" He looked down his nose at me.

"No," I muttered.

We entered the Great Hall and Snape sat me down at the Slytherin table.

"I will be keeping a closer eye on you from this point onwards, Isabella," he told me before sweeping away to the High Table.

I finally let out a frustrated sigh and slouched in my seat. Bloody dictator.

Fred, George and Lee entered the Great Hall moments later, and after scanning the Gryffindor table with no sign of me, saw me sitting at mine. I shook my head sadly at them glanced at Snape.

They got the message, and all three scowling at the Potions Master, they settled at their own table.

"Pining after your boyfriends, Swan?" Draco sat down across from me with a smirk.

I sighed again, reaching for an apple, but Malfoy snatched it away and took a bite.

"What is it? We're not good enough to talk to?" he sneered around a mouthful of apple.

Snape was watching me, so I looked at the blonde in front of me and said with as little enthusiasm as possible, "Good morning boys. Did you sleep well?"

The shock wore off quickly and was replaced with smugness. Draco puffed out his chest, reminding me of a peacock. "Better than you, I imagine. How is the floor treating you, Swan?"

"Better than you," I mimicked, summoning another apple from further away and taking a bite from it. The trio watched this with glowering faces.

"I still think it was you who wrote that on the wall," Draco told me angrily.

My eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? You can't make any friends in Slytherin because of your filthy blood, so you made Uncle Severus feel sorry for you instead by putting up that sign."

"That's probably the stupidest theory I've heard," I said with an eye roll. "You know, if you asked Felix who did it, he'd probably tell you. You know, since he's a prefect."

Draco jerked his head at Crabbe, who rose from his seat to go and do just that while Malfoy continued talking to me. "Did you know we've got flying lessons starting up on Thursday?"

"What kind of flying lessons?" I asked curiously.

"On a broom, you idiot! What were you expecting; we'd learn how to use a giant flying turnip?"

The image of students riding on giant flying turnips was pretty funny, and I burst out laughing.

"Of course not," I said through giggles, and after I settled down, I spoke slowly. "I was thinking of… you know, just flying. Without anything."

Now it was their turn to laugh, and I blushed and looked at my hands. "Don't be ridiculous, Swan. Nobody can fly without a broom. Well, except for… You Know Who."

Crabbe came back just then and said in a soft voice, "Felix says he did the charm himself."

Draco gave me a sharp look. "Fine. You didn't do it, then."

"I know," I told him drily. I finished my apple and rose from the table.

"Where are you going?" Draco snapped. "I'm not done talking to you!"

I looked down at the brat. "I'm done with my breakfast, and I don't have an owl to send me mail, so exactly what did you expect me to stick around for?"

"It's rude to leave when someone's speaking to you," he scolded as though I was a naughty child and he was a parent. From across the room, Fred and George sent me worrying glances. I sat back down, and Draco smirked. "Got any plans today, Mudblood?"

I shrugged. "Aside from a detention with Professor Snape? Read a few books, maybe."

"You won't mind if we tag along then?" His look was not pleasant, so I went for sarcasm.

"And taint your purity? I'm surprised at you, Draco. What would your parents think?"

He scowled at that, and I nodded at the three of them. "Well, if that's all, I'll be going now. Thanks for the chat."

As I rose once more and began to walk away, I was stopped by another voice. "Miss Swan!"

Seriously, the man needed to get a life. "Yes, sir?"

"You have not eaten enough breakfast," the professor told me silkily, motioning for me to resume my place at the table. I scowled at him. "And you haven't had enough sleep. Maybe you should take a nap before our detention."

He sighed patiently and led me back to my seat, sitting down beside me and summoning some extra food onto my plate. I felt like banging my head against a wall.

"I'm not hungry, sir."

"You will eat."

"Will you take a nap?" I asked him seriously. "It's the weekend, you can do that."

"Do not treat me like an old man, Miss Swan," he warned.

"I might if you quit babying me."

"I'm not babying you. Now eat your food."

Draco and his bodyguards were sniggering behind their hands.

I flicked a baked bean expertly at Draco. It landed in the middle of his forehead and slid down to the tip of his nose. I would savour that picture in my mind forevermore.

Snape stared at me with glittering black eyes. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yep," I said, smiling as I took a bite of my bacon, beans and egg on toast. He didn't look amused, so I decided to push it. "You know, Professor Snape, I think you may not be getting your three regular requirements. Every grown man needs all three to function properly, or they start brooding. And you're far gone from brooding, sir."

He narrowed his eyes at the apparent mischief in my expression, but Snape's curiosity got the better of him. "And what three things do you suppose I'm lacking, Miss Swan?"

I ticked them off with my fingers. "Food, sleep, and… sex. Women can easily substitute the latter with a brisk run or some chocolate for the endorphins and lead a totally celibate life without noticing at all, but a man? No, the male sex drive is something to behold."

The man paled ever so slightly, but continued in his professionally detached manner. "And where do you source this information?"

Glancing at the red faces of Crabbe, Malfoy and Goyle before me, I answered, "When you go to a Muggle school like I did, they start teaching sexual education by the time you hit ten years old. And I read a lot. I have what teachers call…" I flicked my sly gaze up to the Potion Master's wide eyes, "… an inquisitive mind. They had to refer me to other professionals in the field."

"Sexual professionals?" Crabbe gaped.

I laughed. "Professionals in the field of sexual education. Not prostitutes or anything!"

The boys looked utterly confused, while I noticed Snape was blushing a little now.

"What's a prostitute?" Goyle asked.

"A woman who charges you coin for sex," Snape answered gruffly.

I giggled at his manner. "You obviously haven't been to one before, sir. You find that sort of thing below you. Which brings me back to my point…"

"Good morning, Isabella!"

Headmaster Dumbledore was standing to my right, and not only had I gained his attention, but many of the male occupants of the Slytherin table. They were all staring at me with a mix of curiosity and mild embarrassment.

"What must you be talking about that has caught the attention of so many this morning?" the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was unmistakeable.

I smiled up at him in a friendly way. "We were just discussing sex, sir."

His eyebrows rose as though he hadn't been expecting that answer at all. "And you are leading this… discussion, Isabella?"

I nodded.

"Have you made sure to tell these fellows that sex is a beautiful, sacred act?"

Half the male student body sitting at my table cringed at hearing an old man say those words.

"I'll be sure to emphasise that point, sir. At the moment I was only up to the driving force that sex is for a man."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Of course, Miss Swan. Proceed." And with a swish of his robes, he turned and walked away. The boys at the table leaned closer, and I noticed even Felix Brunt, the Slytherin prefect, was paying attention.

"Moving along," I said briskly. "From puberty til death, a man's libido remains strong and active. This isn't for no reason. Men and women connect at different levels. Men are physical beings, but women are emotional and require the man to invest their time, affection and attention on her before she is willing to give in to the man's sexual desire. And so a man's libido is his reminder to do these things, or remain frustrated if he doesn't do a good job at pleasing the woman. And for the woman, there's the need for an emotional connection – love." Now I had the females' ears, too. I cleared my throat.

"Let me get one thing straight, first. If you're not going to marry the partner you're with, then it's perfectly acceptable not to have sex with each other until then – it leaves a far stronger impression for both a man and a woman if their first time is on their wedding night.

Sex is special, best shared exclusively for two. And it's a fragile thing, too. There you are – a man and a woman, completely vulnerable to one another, and how good it can be depends on how much you can trust the other. How much you can give. If sex becomes all about taking pleasure for yourself, you end up reducing yourself to the kind of person who needs to pay for the privilege.

But in the context of marriage, if the woman is expecting relationship without sex, don't expect the man to fill her emotional need. Men, please your women emotionally, women, please your men physically. Now," I stood up and flicked a condom out of my pocket under my robes. Every kid had one, these days. "Who knows what this is?"

"Why do you have a condom on your person, Miss Swan?" Snape was looking at me like I'd just vomited on his shoes. I grinned. "Do you plan on confiscating it, Professor?"

His cheeks flushed, and he pursed his lips. "You're an eleven year old child. I merely find all of this absurd."

I smiled again and held up the condom so the Slytherins could all see.

"This is a Muggle invention called a condom. Muggles aren't particularly good at following their own professional advice, especially when it comes to sex. So they invented this, for what they call 'casual sex'. A condom is what men use to prevent pregnancy in whichever woman they're screwing at the time, as well as keeping any sexually transmitted diseases to themselves. Who would like to see how you're supposed to apply a condom?"

Everyone's hands shot up, bar me and Snape. I opened the packet and then looked at the blonde brat sitting across from me. "Draco!"

"Swan!" the professor hissed, thinking the worst of me. I laughed.

"Pass me that banana, please." The boy handed me the banana, and I held it up for all to see. "Remember this: the penis needs to be erect when you apply the condom." A few strange noises emanated from my rapt audience. "For the sake of modesty and pride, this banana will be our example. When you unroll the condom, make sure that the lubrication is on the outside. You'll have a rough time of it if neither one of you is properly lubricated and the condom keeps sliding off on the in-thrust." A few snickers at that. Snape looked appalled. I unrolled the condom with care and slipped it onto the banana until the tip was all that hung off the end.

"That's what it ought to look like when applied properly. I recommend tying off the end and Vanishing it afterwards. And a shower, unless you're happy for the rest of your dorm-mates to suffer the smell. Any questions?"

A third-year girl with black hair and blue eyes raised her hand timidly. "Does it hurt?"

I smiled at her. "Very good question. The first time you have sex, yes, it will hurt. There's a couple reasons for this. When you're a virgin, there's a membrane covering the opening of the vagina called a hymen. When the hymen is penetrated during sexual intercourse, many women will experience a sharp pain and a little bleeding. That's normal. With patience from the man, plenty of foreplay, and a lot of lubrication, this shouldn't be too much of an issue and in time it'll be an enjoyable experience for the both of you. Anyone else?"

To my surprise, it was Draco's hand that went up next. "What's foreplay?"

"Thank you for your question," I smiled. "Foreplay is what you do before having sex with the woman, and it's actually very important. It can make or break a sexual experience. What many men don't know about women is that while your desire is always there and you could probably do it at the drop of a hat, many women don't have any sexual desire unless you provoke it in her. Part of provoking it is in building the romantic relationship, but another part is the foreplay – how you speak, what tone you use, if she feels safe and comfortable, the way you touch her, whether there's anything to distract her like dirty laundry on the floor (which by the way, is an immediate turn-off for any Muggle woman, along with dirty dishes). Foods, smells, colours – find out what the woman likes and do it, that's what foreplay is. It's what you do to lure her into wanting to have sex instead of asking or suggesting it to her. Make sense?"

Draco blushed pink and nodded. I grinned.

"Excellent. If anyone else has another question, you can line up around that God-awful sign above my bed. If you'll excuse me, professor." Getting out of my seat, I walked out to a round of applause.

Fred, Lee, and George were all waiting for me at the doors to the Great Hall as the owls began flying in. "What the hell was that all about?" Fred asked, staring oddly at the Slytherin table.

I shrugged, grinning. "Just a bit of unorthodox Muggle Studies."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It's strange how quickly my 'blood status' was nearly forgotten after my brief but informative sex-ed 'class.' By the following week, I still had people from first-years to prefects waiting at the Mudblood sign to ask me questions, and I was swiftly being referred to by my Slytherin peers as The Guru (as in Sex Guru – ridiculous, right?).

On top of that, Felix offered to take down the sign once he knew that Snape was hunting down the person who did it, but I refused. It was just another name, after all, and Snape wouldn't find out – at least until after Felix was gone.

Draco still called me Mudblood from time to time, but he was the only one who did.

Still, I missed my Gryffindor friends (of course Fred and George had been quite literal about sleeping in my room forevermore, so I still saw them every night after detention). Neville, especially I thought of often – the poor boy was like me, only even more clumsy and unfortunate. I found myself trying to pair up with him on Fridays as much as I could without Snape becoming suspicious of me.

Of course, when I found out our flying lessons would be with the Gryffindors as well, my heart soared.

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first-years never getting in the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories which always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang-glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly, and whenever they did I'd cackle in a loud voice "I'LL GET YOU, MY PRETTY! AND YOUR LITTLE DOG, TOO!" much to the annoyance of Ron and his brothers, but to Harry and Hermione's amusement (I made a compromise with Snape – I'd eat breakfast at my table and make small talk, but as soon as I was finished eating I would join my friends at the Gryffindor table – considering my newfound popularity in Slytherin, he'd agreed reluctantly to my demand).

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, I felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extra- ordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. I mean, I was clumsy, but when it came to magic, everything I did seemed to turn out naturally graceful or something. Poor Neville didn't have that same reassurance.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book – not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored us all stupid with flying tips she'd got out of a library book called Quidditch through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the post.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grand- mother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh ..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "... you've forgotten something ..." Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. Why he was an utter prat sometimes, I had no idea.

At three thirty that afternoon, I stood waiting with the Slytherins as our Gryffindor peers emerged from the castle to join us for our first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day and I watched the grass ripple under everyone's feet as the Gryffindors marched down the sloping lawns towards a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. There were twenty broomsticks lying in neat rows at our feet. I had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. Our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

I glanced down at my broom. It was old, and some of the twigs stuck out at funny angles. A strange compulsion came over me, and I muttered in Latin: "Quid est vetus erit novus fieri."

The brooms creaked, and something like a light breeze passed through all twenty, mending the brooms as they went. I think only Harry noticed, since he gave me a strange look.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few, like mine, that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, I thought. There was a quiver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting our grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. I saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and –

I responded immediately, dropping my broom as I pushed off into the air without a second thought, catching my friend as I did so and turning my body so I'd be the one to cushion his fall.

"It's okay, Nev," I whispered to the scared boy. "We'll be fine-"

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and suddenly I was having trouble breathing. Longbottom immediately started bawling, but he was still on top of me and black dots were beginning to prick my vision.

Draco, strangely, was the first to come to my aid, and he hauled the bumbling boy off me. Nev's broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily towards the Forbidden Forest and out of sight. Bracing myself, I let out a sharp whistle that hurt my left side, and the broom came soaring back to land at Neville's feet.

Draco's pale face was blocking out the sun, giving him a halo look and I had to stop myself from laughing because it really hurt.

"Are you alright, Swan?" he asked with – dare I say it? – concern.

"Peachy," I lied, allowing Crabbe and Goyle to pull me to my feet. "Just winded. Sorry for the intrusion, Madam Hooch," I said to the hawk-eyed lady before stepping back into line. She nodded briskly and was about to resume the lesson when a voice rang out across the field.

"ISABELLA SWAN!"

Aw, crap. "Will the man ever cut me a break?" I asked to nobody in particular.

"The idiot broke your ribs when he landed on you," Snape growled once he'd made it within speaking range. I blushed and ducked my head to avoid Neville's horrified expression.

"Fine," I drawled. "I'll go see Madam Pomfrey."

"I'll take you, Bella," Neville said. "I'm really sorry."

Snape harrumphed and turned on his heel. "Be sure not to damage her further on the way there, Longbottom."

Draco and his cronies snorted, and I shot them a dangerous look.

Madam Hooch sighed. "With your luck, Neville, I hate to say it, but I'm escorting you both to the hospital wing." There were more giggles at that.

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take these two to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dears." She wrapped an arm around each of us and we walked off the field.

I was back with the masses by dinnertime and talking with the Bloody Baron about the strange magical stuff that had been happening to me lately, like with the brooms. He chuckled and said it shouldn't surprise me – it was obvious to him I was a powerful witch, possibly even surpassing the founding father, Salazar Slytherin himself, which I scoffed at, of course.

Draco butted in crossly. "I don't see why you two have to always speak in Latin, Swan. It's exclusive."

I smirked. "Belonging to an exclusive house just makes me rude like that, I guess. Oh wait, I have friends who are different to you purebloods! Never mind, then."

He scowled. "When are you going to see that all those Gryffindor friends of yours are a bunch of losers, anyway?"

My smile left me. "Maybe when they stop being superior company to you, Draco."

A fifth year girl chuckled at that, and Draco's frown deepened. "You just don't know the proper way to judge friends, Swan."

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I supposed to judge their blood status?"

"Yes! I mean – no, oh…" Draco blushed all the way up to his ears.

"You know what your problem is, Malfoy?" I asked quietly, rising from my seat. "You don't know how to _earn_ anything. Not even your friends."

And with that sharp comment, I fled the Hall.

This was the second last detention Miss Swan was to serve, only she hadn't shown up. After ten minutes of waiting patiently, Snape stepped out of his office to track down the girl – and almost tripped over her.

"Why are you out here and not inside, serving your detention?"

"I was afraid to go in," Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear her, even though she stood right in front of him.

"Well, you still have detention," he said briskly, leading Bella inside and put her straight to work, cleaning cauldrons.

After her third sigh, the Potions Master snapped "What?"

"I have a question, but it's… personal, sir."

"That hasn't stopped you before," he muttered before telling the girl to get on with it and just ask. Her eyes lifted slowly from the cauldron, and if he didn't know her better he would have thought she was nervous.

"It's something you said last week. When I asked you about You-Know-Who, you called him the Dark Lord… only, I heard that's what Death Eaters called him. Were you…? Are you a…?"

"Death Eater?" Severus looked at his student coolly. Somehow, the question didn't unsettle him like it would have if it were anybody else. She nodded, her eyes shifting.

The Potions Master made a small 'come here' motion with his hands, and the girl set down her scrubbing brush and scurried over to his desk.

With a lazy flick of his wand, Severus locked the doors and put a silencing charm on the room. He leaned forward. "If I answer your question, you are to give me something in return."

She swallowed. "What do you want, sir?"

Severus attempted to make his smile reassuring; somehow he was sure it didn't work. "You said the other day that you have an inquisitive mind."

Bella paled and took a half-step back.

He waved her off. "Don't be ridiculous, Swan, I'm not a lecher. What I want from you involves nothing more than conversation."

Her brows furrowed. "Why didn't you just say so?"

The professor's smile was bitter. "For safety reasons, I need you to swear that nothing I tell you from this point on will spread any further than the two of us."

"Of what nature will our conversations be?"

"It will suffice to say that there is much more to me than meets the eye," he said crisply.

Bella took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Snape waited for half a minute before her dark eyes opened again and she nodded.

"I swear that from this point on, whatever private conversations there are between you and me will remain between the two of us." Magic swirled around the professor and his student, and afterwards he visibly relaxed. He unbuttoned the left sleeve of his outer jacket and pulled up the shirt sleeve, revealing a strange tattoo on his left forearm.

"This is the Dark Mark, Bella." She jolted at his use of her name, and stared wide-eyed at the man.

"I got this when I first became a Death Eater in my youth. I was fascinated by the Dark Arts as a young boy and was foolish enough to join my friends in the ranks of Death Eaters. When my involvement in the Dark Lord's conquests only caused the death of my best friend and love, Lily Evans – Potters mother, that is – I changed sides and became a spy for Dumbledore. I am charged with the safety of her son and the downfall of You-Know-Who in whatever way Dumbledore sees fit. I am bound to obey, at any cost, but –" he exhaled sharply,

"Dumbledore often expresses his concern for my sanity. Until now, he has been trying to persuade me to open up to him. But you must understand, Bella, I loathe the man as much as I respect him. I am merely a pawn in the Great Dumbledore's match against the Dark Lord. I'm under his command now, because if it weren't for my stupid decisions in the first place, Lily… she'd be alive. I am already vulnerable enough to that man, I will not be brought even lower…" Snape's eyes were hard as he confessed this to the young witch.

"He's right, however, about my need to share this secret. That is why I've chosen you. You're too observant for your own good, Miss Swan, and that can be dangerous for your health in such a time and place as this. So, this promise, it should protect you for the most part."

Bella stared at him for a long moment. And then she did something quite unexpected.

She'd crawled onto his desk before he could figure out what she was doing, and in one fluid motion she had both hands stretching out his arm for closer inspection. The girl was wise enough not to touch the Mark itself, but her face was so close to his forearm that her warm breath tickled his skin.

"What's it for?" she asked suddenly, her wide eyes closer to his face than he realised.

"Erm… summoning. If it burns, it means we're being called to his presence. It works both ways. If I were to press my wand to the Dark Mark and utter a specific spell, he would come to me, and the reason had better be good. It serves other purposes too, of course. The Dark Mark signifies the witches and wizards in his inner circle of most loyal followers, and whenever someone is murdered by a Death Eater, a Dark Mark will appear in the sky to strike fear into the enemies of the Dark Lord. It was quite effective in this manner during the Wizarding War."

Bella swallowed again, and nodded briefly, releasing his arm. "I'd best get back to the cauldrons, sir."

He'd scared her. For Merlin's sake, the girl was eleven! Snape sighed to himself as the young witch returned to her work and did something he would never normally do.

The girl jumped when her scrubbing brush flew out of her hand and started scrubbing the cauldron all by itself.

"Consider detention over for the evening," he said simply.

Bella appeared to slump in relief, and hastily made her way to the door.

Snape wasn't quite ready to let her leave just yet, however.

"Tell me something, Miss Swan," the professor asked while he buttoned up his sleeve, "do you still sleep below that sign on the wall?"

She halted, nodded unsurely.

"You won't tell me who did it?"

Miss Swan shook her head no.

"And the wall, is it still booby-trapped as you say?"

Once more she nodded, only he could sense her hesitation.

"I have come up with a solution," he told the girl, beckoning her over as he went to the door in the back of his office that led to his private quarters.

"You shall come to me of a night and sleep here," Snape opened the door and the girl froze at the sight of his bedroom. He looked down at her.

"Is there a problem, Miss Swan?"

"Um…" Bella fumbled for words, and eventually just gave up in favour of staring at the vast expanse.

"Cat got your tongue?" he smirked.

"Will this be seen as inappropriate?" she finally asked.

"More appropriate than allowing a student in my House to sleep on the floor," Snape replied smoothly, guiding her across the room past bookcases, a cauldron and a writing desk to the king-sized bed on the far end of the room.

"There is a bathroom through that door that you may use freely," he pointed it out, "and you will be up and out of these quarters, dressed and ready for breakfast every morning ten minutes earlier than your usual time. Is that understood?"

Bella stared up at her professor, mouth open a little. "What if I'd rather stay in the common room?"

The man's lips pressed together in a thin line. "That is unacceptable, Miss Swan. Until other arrangements are made, you will sleep here and that is the end of this pointless discussion!"

His student tripped on her way to the bathroom, but didn't look back for a moment until the door was shut firmly behind her.

With the shower running on full pressure, I whispered a name. "Sooty?"

Her appearance was immediate, and she bowed low before me. "What service may Sooty do for her mistress?" she asked quietly.

"Would you make sure Fred, Lee and George can't get to my room tonight, and let them know I'll see them at breakfast in the morning?"

"Certainly, miss." And then she was gone again.

Sighing, I stepped under the water and adjusted the taps to the level I liked before proceeding to scrub every inch of my body.

Ten minutes later I emerged from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel wrapped around my body, my old clothes scourgified and folded neatly in my arms.

Snape looked up from his writing desk as I brushed past him and set my clothes on the floor beside the bed. When I straightened up and turned around, I had to keep myself from screaming. Snape was looming over me like he was a vampire, but when I realised what was in his hands, I felt silly. It was a nightshirt. He'd shrunk it to fit me better, but even then it was still a little long in the sleeves, and on me it better resembled a nightgown. I pulled it on over my towel and allowed the latter to fall to my feet. "Thanks," I muttered, picking up the towel and returning it to the bathroom hook before settling into the bed hesitantly.

In a rare gesture of warmth, the professor ran a hand across my forehead, gently brushing some hair off my face. "Go to sleep, Bella. I'll join you in a little while."

He went to his wardrobe and pulled out some fresh bedclothes before retreating to the shower. I followed his movements with my eyes, and as soon as the water turned on I put a silencing charm on the room and called for Sooty again.

"Yes, miss?" she looked at me with wide eyes.

I whispered to her hastily, "You know how my wardrobe leads to Lee's trunk? That was very clever of you, by the way." The elf positively beamed at the praise.

"Can you make more corridors so I can travel to and from different rooms?"

The house elf nodded eagerly. "Sooty knows her mistress has many friends. Sooty was only waiting for permission to make more secret pathways. Would my mistress like to see all her friends?"

I nodded. "Yes. And… can you include Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore's wardrobes amongst them?"

"Of course, mistress! Sooty is only too happy to do this for Young Miss Isabella!"

Her joy was contagious, and I smiled widely at the funny creature before allowing her to leave. She promised to start work immediately, and Disapparated with a loud pop, only moments before Severus came striding out of the bathroom in a much larger version of my nightgown and a funny pair of long johns. "Still awake, I see," he muttered as he crossed the room and crawled into bed beside me.

My mouth hung open.

Snape looked a little irritated. "What?" he asked. I stared at him.

"I just saw your knees."

"Of all the things…" he huffed, and I felt another smile creeping onto my face.

"Anyway, sleep well, sir." I leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before rolling over and going to sleep.

"Allow me to get this straight, Severus: A first-year student not only slept in your bed last night, but you have also compromised yourself to her as my spy?"

Dumbledore wasn't smiling, his eyes weren't twinkling at all. However, he didn't look like he was about to murder Severus where he stood, so Snape figured the man was open to persuasion. "If I'm not mistaken, it was you who told me to open up-"

"To me! What on earth could have possessed you to make such a foolish decision, Severus? Our whole mission is at risk!"

"I did not merely throw caution to the wind, Dumbledore! I took the appropriate measures, made her promise before-"

CLUNK! The two warlocks whipped around to peer cautiously at Dumbledore's wardrobe, which was currently shaking and making a racket.

"What the devil-!"

A student fell out of the cupboard – not just any student, though – the student. Isabella Swan. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o' as she looked up at the intimidating wizards, and the wands pointed in her face.

She blew a hair out of her face, stood up and brushed her robes. "Erm- good morning, sirs. Sorry for the intrusion, I'll just… go?"

Dumbledore lowered his wand, as did Professor Snape. They peered from the first-year to the cupboard before sweeping past her to go and inspect it. When all they found was the back of Dumbledore's cupboard, the headmaster shook his head and spoke to the person of interest.

"Isabella Swan, would you care to explain how you got here?"

Bella looked to her professor and simply said, "The wall. I tripped."

Snape appeared to understand what she meant, since he merely sighed in response. "Very well, Miss Swan. Well then, how much of our conversation did you intrude upon?"

The young witch pursed her lips.

"You know, Professor Snape, I feel like you give me too much credit. I'm not that observant. I was too focussed on trying to get out of Professor Dumbledore's wardrobe to pay attention to anything else. And besides, wouldn't you apologise if you entered a room via somebody else's cupboard? If you don't mind me saying, you seem a little jumpy, sir."

The Headmaster eyed the Slytherin first-year with scrutiny.

"Indeed… Miss Swan. It has come to my attention that you are privy to certain incriminating information regarding your Potions Master. I ask that you relinquish that information to me immediately so I can deal with it in an appropriate manner."

Her face scrunched up in confusion.

"If you're referring to my character study of Professor Snape, I assure you I've already received detentions for that, sir."

Dumbledore did not look pleased with her answer. "Can you honestly tell me anything that Severus here may have told you last night before he invited you to sleep in his chambers?"

She looked appalled.

"I can honestly tell you nothing, Professor Dumbledore. And as for me sleeping in his chambers, I don't know where you could have conjured up that hogwash, because I served my detention and then went to sleep in my own bed as I always do!"

"Then I'm sure you won't mind if Severus reads your mind to verify that you truly know nothing?"

"Go ahead. You won't find anything."

Severus stared at his master. Had Dumbledore gone completely mad? But the Headmaster simply raised his brows and gazed back expectantly. After a moment's hesitation, the Potions Master pointed his wand at the girl and said, "Legilimens!"

There was silence in the room for two minutes, and then both girl and professor reeled back. He turned to the Headmaster solemnly.

"What did you find, Severus?"

"Nothing," the other replied.

"Like I said," Bella frowned. "Do I have permission to go to breakfast now, sirs?"

"Yes, yes of course!" Dumbledore's tone changed immediately from suspicious to bashful. She left his office in a great hurry, and Albus stood in thoughtful silence for a few moments longer.

"She has quite a way with words," he mused at last. "I can honestly tell you nothing. Very clever. Tell me, really, Severus, what did you find in her mind? Did she put up a good resistance?"

Snape had also been deep in thought also, but he drew himself back to reality at the man's question. "As I said before, Albus – there was nothing. It was silent and dark. Nothing to see as far as I searched."

"Most unusual," Dumbledore replied, stroking his beard. "Perhaps she has had some very early training?"

"Or I must thank the Sorting Hat for giving me a child prodigy," Snape said with a smirk.

"You're both wrong," the Sorting Hat called out from her perch on a high shelf in Dumbledore's office. "And more the fools for not seeing it earlier. You've got a Primus Maga on your hands, gentlemen. A very rare, noble, ancient breed of witch. The kind of power she has now is only natural for one of her kind at this age, and it will continue to grow exponentially until she reaches full maturity. I told her of course, but she doesn't believe me, silly girl." Snape was sure if the Hat had proper eyes, it would have rolled them.

"Well, I suppose she is trustworthy after all, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly, the famous twinkle returning to his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Hey, Harry?" The boy looked up at me quizzically, and I cast a quick glance at his oh-so-mysterious-parcel (it was a broom, obviously) before sitting down across from him instead of my usual place beside the twins. I gathered up my courage and asked him the question that nobody so far had been willing to answer. "What's the name of the man who murdered your parents?"

Ron, who'd been inhaling his breakfast only moments before, now spewed a whole sausage out of his nose. "The hell do you think you're asking?!"

Harry also gave me a funny look. "Why do you want to know, Bella?"

I shrugged. "I'm a little behind the times on the reason you're so famous. To be honest, I didn't know you were famous until we got Sorted. Different people have been catching me up on the details, only there was one detail I didn't know cos people are too afraid to say it, and I know you're not afraid to say the guy's name so I thought I'd ask you. Is that okay? If it's not, that's fine and I'll go see if Dumbledore would mind telling me."

"Voldemort." Several people cringed at the name that fell from Harry's lips.

My face scrunched up a little. "Odd name. Thanks, Harry!" I got up from my seat and moved back to my usual space in between the Weasley twins, who both bumped shoulders with me in greeting.

Across the Great Hall, Draco was looking on jealously.

I could hardly believe it when I realised that I'd already been at Hogwarts two months. Maybe it had something to do with the Weasley twins. They dragged me all over the castle to join them in pranks so much, I lost sense of time. I had to admit, I was tired from it all, though. Especially with sneaking away from Snape's chambers at night to go sleep in my own room with my two best friends. He'd caught me a few times slipping out of bed, and so I had to pretend I needed to use the bathroom instead.

And now it was my birthday – I was born on Halloween, a month earlier than I was expected, my mom told me. Every year my birthday would come and go like a non-event, since I'd never had any close friends at my school in Phoenix, and I didn't want people to miss out on the fun that was trick-or-treating instead of going to a silly party.

The castle felt more like home than Phoenix had ever done. Our lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that everyone had mastered the basics. On Halloween morning we woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought we were ready to start making objects fly, something we had all been dying to try since we'd seen him make a small mouse zoom around the classroom.

Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practise. Crabbe and Goyle were put together, but I was to be working with Draco Malfoy. He seemed exceptionally pleased about this.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Crabbe and Goyle swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skywards just lay on the desktop. Crabbe got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it – Goyle had to put it out with his hat.

Draco, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his pale arms like a see-saw.

I tried to suppress a giggle, but Malfoy saw it and glowered. "What! Can you do any better?"

Shrugging, I said mildly, "Maybe I can't. I haven't tried it yet. But if you continue to wave your arms like that I may have to swap partners so you don't whack me in the head."

He crossed his arms and scowled. "Show me how it's done, then."

I stepped up behind him and guided his arm with a feather light touch, repeating the swish and flick movements Flitwick had just demonstrated.

"Do you feel the difference?" I asked softly, stepping away from the blonde boy.

He was blushing, but he nodded and repeated the spell.

The feather trembled, but didn't lift. He huffed in exasperation and rounded on me. "Why isn't it floating?"

I sat down beside him and spoke in hushed tones. "Draco, you made it shiver. I think that's more progress than anybody else has made so far."

His eyes darkened. "You haven't tried it yet. You think I haven't noticed, Swan? You're perfect at every class, even Potions! Only, you let Neville drag you down so it doesn't look like you're showing off. So, go on, why don't you just show me up like you always do?"

"It isn't a competition, Draco," I sighed. "Look, you're excellent at Potions. Maybe if you just treat every subject like it's as precise as a potion recipe, you'll get things quicker."

Draco looked at me like he wanted to hex me for not giving in to his pointed remarks, but I ignored that and said lightly, "Remember Flitwick said the pronunciation was important, too. Try saying it different ways and I'm sure you'll figure it out."

By the end of the lesson, Draco had figured it out, and was now the only student to get his feather to float. Flitwick was impressed and awarded Slytherin five points, to which Draco smirked at me and basked in the attention.

However, just as we were all leaving for our next class, Professor Flitwick pulled me aside and looked at me sternly – well as sternly as a munchkin could, I suppose.

"Miss Swan, I noticed that you never so much as lifted your wand in class today! Do not tell me that pairing you with Mr Malfoy was such a big distraction…"

I shook my head. "No, sir, it's not that."

"Well?" the tiny professor squeaked.

"It's just… I feel bad whenever I practice magic, sir. Everyone else is trying so hard, but for me it's easy. It's unfair, because everything we've been learning so far is a struggle for everyone but me. I don't want to discourage them, or be the subject of anybody's resentment."

"Well," Professor Flitwick said thoughtfully, "why don't you show me what you can do after class, when your peers have all left?"

I brightened considerably. "Okay."

"Go ahead," he said, leaning forward eagerly on the edge of his pile of books.

I rolled up the sleeves of my gown, flicked my wand and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Every feather in the room rose off the desks and hovered about four feet above our heads. I saw a brief flash of white light and then something else started to happen – the feathers started gravitating towards one another until they were no longer a group of feathers, but a small, white bird gliding about the room. The bird flapped its wings and then floated gracefully down to Flitwick's desk, where it cooed at the Professor and then fell apart into a bunch of feathers again.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Bravo, Miss Swan! That's like nothing I've ever seen." I blushed and picked up my bag, thanking the man before fleeing to my next class.

"What's that you've got there, Swan?" Draco leaned over my shoulder at lunch as I sat down at the Slytherin table. Dumbledore had called me to the High Table and handed me a package and an envelope, saying the Ministry of Magic had picked up on it when my mother tried sending me a letter through the post addressed:

_Miss Isabella Swan,_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,_

_Scotland_

I sighed, knowing what it was. Trust mom to try and remind me of my birthday. Usually, it was something I successfully managed to glaze over every year since I didn't have close friends to invite to a birthday party, but I suppose she thought she could get away it now I was at boarding school.

"A letter from my mom," I told him in a tone that said move out of my personal space. He didn't get the message.

"Well, what's it say?"

Staring deadpan at the blonde boy draping himself over me, I pretended to quote my mom. "It says, Hi Honey, who's that obnoxious boy trying to read over your shoulder?"

Draco moved away slightly, huffing like I was the rude one. Not trusting him an ounce, I stepped away from the table and stood over by the wall to read my letter.

_Hi Honey,_

_Happy birthday! What is your new school like? Do you have a favourite subject, favourite teacher? Have you made any friends there? You know, it's perfectly alright if you haven't, but I do worry about you, Bella, in a new country all by yourself._

_Phil and I are doing well, we've been travelling a lot, and his team's improving._

_I was going to send you some birthday cake with your letter but Phil advised me against it. He seems to think it won't get through customs –_

I chuckled at that, knowing where my stepfather was coming from. Mom was known to experiment a lot with food, and there was a sixty percent chance that whatever she turned out would be inedible, or possibly useful if the Pentagon could mass produce it to poison their diplomatic enemies.

_– and I suppose he's right. So, I've sent you a book instead. It's from me, Phil and Charlie. Actually, it was Charlie's idea, since he'd been talking with Billy and your little friend Jacob (you remember him, don't you? Gosh, you two were so cute together!), about something special to get you. It's a book of Quileute legends and ancestral stories, so we all figured you'd enjoy it a lot. Um, Phil may have also sent you a baseball and a couple mitts from the boys in his team (when he told them it was your birthday, they really wouldn't say no – sorry, I know you aren't very good at sports, sweetie). Perhaps your new friends will enjoy it? You know, if you've made enough friends now, you might be able to convince the Headmaster to let you have a little birthday party since we can't go see you._

_Speaking of seeing you, I hate to have to ask this, honey, but would you mind terribly spending Christmas there at Hogwarts? It's just, we haven't really stayed in one place for so much as a week, and I don't think you'd be comfortable spending your Christmas holidays in the bus with Phil, me, and the team._

_Oh, and one more thing. We took a picture of all your family together, it should be in the package with your book. That way we won't ever be far away from you, darling, even when it feels like it. We all miss you very much, Bella. Especially me. _

_I expect to hear from you soon!_

_Love, your mom._

My feet felt heavy with every step that took me back to the table. I knew it was likely I wouldn't be going home for Christmas, but it still hurt when it was confirmed like that. Draco was examining the package, though he hadn't opened it yet, and so I reached out and took it from him. "It's a Muggle photo, a Muggle book and some Muggle sporting equipment."

"Family photo?" the boy guessed. I nodded.

"Can I see it?" he asked.

I opened the package and marvelled at the book before opening the front page to find the photo tucked inside. I held it in my hands and stared.

Renee, my mother stood in the middle of the picture, one arm around Phil's waist and one free hand holding Charlie's. But that wasn't all. Standing on Charlie's right was Jacob. My young Quileute friend was growing out his hair – it was nearly shoulder length, and he stood in front of a wheelchair that sat his old dad, Billy Black. And then, on Phil's left was his entire baseball team, holding a sign in rainbow colours that read: Happy Birthday, Bella! With Love! Everyone in the photo was grinning out at me.

Draco was looking over my shoulder again. "Why don't the people move?" Malfoy asked.

I rolled my eyes. "They're all Muggles. They don't have magic to make the pictures move, Draco."

"Which one's your dad?"

"The one with dark hair and a moustache, obviously. Phil's my stepdad. That's his baseball team – it's a Muggle sport."

"Who is that boy and the man sitting down?" Draco sounded suspicious. "Is he a relative?"

"That's my best friend, from a tribal reservation near Charlie's town. He's a couple years younger than me. Looks like his dad's lost the use of his legs."

"Right, well… when were you going to tell me it's your birthday?" the blonde boy asked huffily.

I shrugged. "Never, I guess?"

His face darkened, and I was quick to reassure him. "Don't take it personally, Draco. I… don't suppose you know what it's like to be wildly unpopular and have your classmates know your birthday is on Halloween. My mom and I would wake up in the morning to find our house covered in eggs and toilet paper, and flaming, brown paper bags filled with dog crap every year."

Draco was confused. "What's that got to do with Halloween?"

"Haven't you heard of trick or treat?"

He just stared at me, and I sighed.

"Halloween is a holiday Muggles dedicated to anything out of the ordinary, like witches and wizards, and anything else you'd find in the Wizarding world. Muggles dress up in costumes and walk from house to house, wherever people have left a light on at their front door – and give people a choice: trick, or treat. If you want them to leave them in peace, you'll give them candy or money, but if you tell them to go away, they're obliged to prank your home. In my case, we never left our light on, but we got the tricks anyway."

"Stupid Muggles," Draco scoffed. "What did you do? Did you hex them? Make them stop?"

I shook my head. "I cleaned up the mess, went to my room and read another book."

Draco seemed to be getting more cross the more I told him. "I would've sought revenge. What kind of self-respecting witch does nothing?"

"Me." Tired of this conversation, I stood up to leave. "Draco, promise me you won't tell anybody about my birthday."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I promise."

Professor Snape approached me as I started moving away. "Miss Swan, I-"

"Just this once, Professor… leave me alone!" I snapped, running from the Great Hall.

I found Hermione in the girls' bathroom late that afternoon, crying.

"Go away!" she screeched.

"Bad day?" I asked softly as I focussed my magic on transfiguring the bathroom into a lounge/café. Once again, in a brief flash of white light, the task was done.

The Granger girl looked up from where she sat in the corner and her eyes widened.

"You're a Primus Maga! I've read about them in _Ancient Wizarding History, Volume One_."

My nose scrunched up. "Um, how do you figure that?"

She rolled her eyes as though it were obvious (they were red from crying. So was her nose, but she definitely wasn't an ugly crier).

"Really, Bella, have you met any other first-years who can do what you just did? I bet you're finding every subject super-easy and not challenging at all."

I shook my head. "I try not to think about it. My peers don't enjoy being outperformed. So…" I sat down on one of the sprawling couches and invited her to do the same. "What happened that made you decide to hide out here?"

The girl sniffled, and I conjured a box of tissues onto a little coffee table in front of her. She gave me a watery smile. A thought struck me. "Before we get into this, would you like some tea and something to eat? You must be famished."

"Witches and wizards can't summon food," she told me matter-of-factly. I smirked.

"Sooty?"

CRACK! Hermione looked wide-eyed at me as my house elf bowed low before me.

"What can Sooty do for Young Miss Isabella?"

Before I could open my mouth, Hermione blurted, "You work for Bella?!"

Sooty smiled at the girl. "Yes, miss. Sooty is very happy to serve Young Miss Isabella. She is very good to Sooty, and so Sooty tries hard to make her happy. Is Miss Granger a friend of my mistress?"

Hermione burst into tears, causing my house elf to look at me in alarm.

"Miss Granger is my friend, Sooty, though I do wish I knew her better than I do now. By the way, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind bringing us some food from the kitchens, and a pot of tea, perhaps. Hermione has had a bad day, and I think she may have missed lunch."

"Oh, of course, miss! Very bad not to eat all your meals. Sooty will take care of it right away!" The house elf bowed and then Disapparated with a loud pop and I slid onto the couch beside Hermione to draw her into a hug.

"Ron, that git, said nobody can stand me and that I'm a nightmare. I mean, I just wanted to help him get his charm right and he got all snappy!" She burst into a new round of tears. "Is – is it true what you said to Sooty, or were you just being nice?"

I pulled back and held the girl by her shoulders. "Really, Hermione, other than the fact we only see each other at breakfast and classes, what reason would I have to not want you as a friend? You're smart, helpful, and all-round a good person. If Ron thinks you're a nightmare, well he can bloody well remember that at least he doesn't spend every class with Draco Malfoy and get over it!"

Hermione giggled. With another crack, Sooty Apparated in front of us with a bow and two trays. One held a pot of tea, and the other was piled high with pumpkin pies, jacket potatoes and other various dishes from the dinner feast.

"Thank you for this, Sooty. It looks delicious."

Hermione was quick to agree. "You've done a wonderful job, Sooty, thank you."

The house elf smiled brilliantly at us. "You are too kind, misses. Sooty will come if you call her, if you need anything at all you just let Sooty know."

"I will."

"Oh, Sooty nearly forgot! It is Isabella Swan's eleventh birthday today! Happy birthday, Young Miss Isabella! Sooty will make sure all Miss Bella's friends know it is her birthday."

And before I could respond, the house elf was gone with a loud pop. I blushed and sighed when Hermione repeated the well wishes, and we both dug into our mini-feast.

"So, what is it like working with that pompous brat every day?" Hermione asked as she sipped on her cup of tea. I answered around a mouthful of pumpkin pie.

"An exercise in patience and kindness," I joked.

She laughed along with me and then frowned.

"I suppose it's an exercise in those things just being in Slytherin as a Muggle-born. Aren't they cruel to you?"

She was right. Until I'd shown them my usefulness, my beginnings in that house had been quite unbearable. Sooty of course, had helped a lot, as had Fred and George.

Eventually, I answered, "It hasn't been so bad, actually. Nothing I couldn't get a handle on with a few friends and a special little house elf."

"Isn't it insulting though, when Draco still calls you a- a…"

"Mudblood?" I finished. She cringed, but nodded.

"Slytherins have forked tongues, but if you think like one of them and not the rest of the affronted population you don't rise to their bait so often. In my first week, I was kicked from my dorm and sent to sleep in the common room beside a charmed wall that read The Filthy Mudblood Sleeps Here. Not only was that more of an insult to the House of Purebloods, but it didn't work as any kind of humiliation. I fell through the wall and found out that Sooty had made a special bedroom just for me. Nobody can get into it by accident, they need an invitation.

Then there was the time Draco tried to get a rise out of me at breakfast for being a Mudblood. What ended up happening was my House learned that Muggles sometimes know more about certain important things than witches and wizards do."

"How was that?" Hermione asked curiously. I grinned.

"I talked to them about sex. Surprising what the purebloods don't know."

Suddenly, Hermione let out a high, petrified scream, pointing to something over my shoulder.

I turned around. It was a horrible sight.

Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

She screamed again, and it started heading toward us, toward the noise. I put my hand over her mouth, stood in front of her and called out.

"Si vos es venientem super hicte munda erit! Intelligenter loqui tibi! Cessabis petulantia tua. *(_If you are coming over here, you must be clean! You will speak intelligently, and you will cease your unruliness_.)"

The troll froze and the club slid out of its hands as it was enveloped in a bright white light that lasted several moments.

When the light shimmered away, the troll that stood before us no longer had a foul odour, and clothes had materialised on the great creature, a long brown robe that covered its body, giving it a sense of propriety and modesty. The troll opened his mouth and spoke in a very gravelly, deep voice.

"I'm terribly sorry for the intrusion, misses. It appears I've gotten myself turned about. Whoever it was that led me into this castle disappeared all of a sudden, so I couldn't find a way out of here. Ooh, is that tea? Would you mind if I join you? I'm quite hungry."

Hermione had gone quite pale, and so I moved her to a smaller couch – a two seater, and sat beside her, freeing up the space for the troll to sit down.

"Strange, isn't it, that someone would lead a troll into Hogwarts."

"Peeves the poltergeist, maybe?" Hermione recovered enough to say.

The troll shook his head, which must have been difficult, since for all I could see he didn't have a neck. "No, it was definitely a man," he rumbled. "But I couldn't see his face. He wore a hooded cloak."

As we pondered this quandary, the door to the bathroom burst open, and Ron and Harry came charging in, wands at the ready.

"Oh look, Hermione, maybe they do care," I stage-whispered.

The mountain troll took a careful sip from the tiny mug of tea in his hands.

"What the bloody hell? Here we are, thinking you're in some kind of mortal danger and you're just all sitting there drinking tea!" Ron snapped.

"Oh, if the young witch here hadn't acted quickly, I probably would've knocked their heads off with my club and eaten them whole while they ran around like headless chooks. But now I'm the most conscientious troll you'll ever have the good fortune to meet."

The troll picked up a whole pumpkin pie from the tray of never-ending food and shoved it in his mouth. "That's quite good," he said lightly.

Meanwhile, Hermione was glaring daggers at the red-haired boy, who had the decency to look sheepish. Harry, troll and me all stared at him as well until he grew uncomfortable.

"Sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have said what I did, and I only said it cos I was mad and jealous of you in Charms."

"I was more worried about losing House points than looking out for my friends," she admitted. "I'm sorry, too."

"And I'm sorry I didn't stand up for you, 'Mione," Harry took a step forward.

"Well, I'm sorry for nearly eating your lovely little friends," the troll added soberly, really getting into the spirit of the conversation.

I shrugged and decided to go for it, too. "I'm sorry for not turning Malfoy into a ferret for being mean to you. Anyone for more tea?"

Ron took one look at the tray of food and sat down immediately. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes at the boy's evident case of tapeworm, but Harry sat down too.

We'd just started having a lovely chat when the door slammed open once more.

McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart. I furrowed my brows.

"That's our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Shouldn't he be totally cool with something like this?"

The mountain troll stared at him. "Too true. And what about that turban? I've eaten a lot of strange people before, but I bet this guy would taste the funniest of them all."

"Don't get any ideas," I warned. The troll smiled at me. "I usually don't."

All three professors gaped at the giant creature.

"Did he – did that troll just make a joke?" McGonagall asked.

"Two, actually," Snape said looking for all the world like this was the grimmest situation he'd ever addressed in his life. Then their attention turned to us.

My friends were all too nervous to speak. So I explained for them.

"Hermione and I weren't at the Great Hall for dinner, as you can probably see. She'd come up to use the bathroom, but before she left I popped in and transformed it into this." I waved my arms around me. "See, I wanted to have some time to myself like I usually do on m- Halloween, but since Hermione was already here, I forced her to stay cos I didn't want anybody else to hear about the changes to the girls' bathroom."

"A fascinating story I'm sure," Snape drawled, "but how do these two boys and a troll come into it?" Jerk.

"Well, when Harry and Ron heard about the troll, they probably noticed Hermione was missing, blissfully unaware of a troll in the school, and rightly so. They came to find us, heard 'Mione screaming and burst through the door to see the three of us drinking tea instead."

"As I said earlier," the troll began, "if the young witch here hadn't acted so quickly, I probably would've knocked their heads off with my club and eaten them whole while they ran around like headless chooks. But those boys had the noblest intentions, I'm sure. Not sure if they could have beaten me, but they would have tried saving these girls if the missy here hadn't already transformed me."

Once again, it took the professors several moments to get over the shock of a speaking troll.

"Very well," McGonagall said. "Miss Swan, if you would care to return the girls bathroom to its former glory, you and your… troll… will be accompanying me, Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell to Professor Dumbledore's office to explain. The rest of you, off to your common room."

My friends scurried away and I rose to my feet with a sigh. The two trays vanished immediately, and I let my magic swirl around the room and restore the bathroom to its previous state. And then to my surprise the mountain troll lifted me up in his arms and carried me out after the three professors.

"Thank you, Minerva. If you and Quirrell wouldn't mind waiting outside, I'd like to have a private word with Miss Swan."

"And Severus?" Minerva queried.

"Is Bella's Head of House and privy to whatever decision needs to be made in regard to the young lady," Dumbledore replied patiently.

When they had left, the Headmaster smiled kindly at me.

"Have you written back to your mother yet, dear?"

I shook my head, eyes wide. "No, sir."

The old wizard handed me his own quill and parchment, inviting me to sit and write while he and Severus 'had a quick word' with the troll, who had started to call himself Gror.

_Dear Mom,_

_Thanks for the gifts. Tell Phil and the team I can't wait to show my new friends the baseball and mitts, and thank Charlie, Billy and Jacob (of course I remember him, mom!) for thinking to get me such an interesting book. They don't play anything like baseball here in the UK, so you're right, it is quite the novelty. School has taken a little getting used to. There are so many things here that are different to school in Phoenix._

_The boarding school was this old medieval castle, and it's easy to get lost on the way to class._

_Students are allowed to bring their pets to stay with them at school, but only certain breeds of animals._

_And we have greenhouses for the people particularly talented with plants (like my friend Neville) and a giant field out the back for sporting events._

_There's a thick forest surrounding the school, which nobody's allowed to go into, plus a lake (also off-limits. I think it may be occupied by some exotic endangered creatures)._

_I like all my subjects, but I can't say I've got a favourite teacher. Maybe a least favourite – Professor Quirrell. He's our Defence teacher, but the man's a nervous wreck! Not only that, but there was a lockdown today (some enormous hulk of a guy got into the school uninvited) and you'd think the Defence teacher would be all over that, but no – he fainted! And he wears this giant purple turban, filled with garlic, because he's paranoid about vampires of all things. I mean, come on!_

_Anyway, I like it here. I'm excelling in all my classes and I've made plenty of friends since I got on the train to Hogwarts. There's my best friends, Fred Weasley and George Weasley. They're twins, and a couple years older than me, and the best pranksters of their generation. They brighten everyone's days. Another good friend is Lee Jordan, he's the same age as Fred and George, and he's done the coolest thing with his hair – dreadlocks! Don't worry though, mom, that's not my style and I won't be asking for it._

_Then, there's Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville. They're all my age, and brilliant each in their own ways. Neville and I are like peas in a pod (so clumsy, poor thing!) but he's the nicest most decent boy I've ever met. And then there's my frenemy, Draco Malfoy, and his two buddies (bodyguards) Crabbe and Goyle. He's mean and smarmy to just about everyone, but I can handle him most of the time and we almost get along._

_I've had enough detentions with my Chemistry teacher to be on friendly terms with him as well. He's what I refer to as tall, dark and brooding. Very brilliant, very sarcastic man. We get on like a house on fire._

_Headmaster Dumbledore is a real puzzle. He's pretty great with kids, but sometimes I get the sense that he could have been an extremely dangerous sort of man in his youth if he chose it. By far the most respected authority figure I've ever met. He seems a little bonkers sometimes but he's got a quick wit, so that may account for it. We all love him here._

_I appreciate your thoughtfulness mom, but to be honest I'm glad you didn't send me a cake. Phil's right about customs. He's very wise. Listen to him often._

_Besides, the pumpkin pie here is unbelievably amazing._

_In regards to Christmas, I'll be absolutely fine here. Please enjoy yourselves as much as you can on the road, and don't forget to stand under some mistletoe with Phil when you get the chance._

"Miss Swan, this is remarkable spell work!" Dumbledore's praise broke me out of my writing. I shrugged. "It really didn't take much thought."

"Severus, would you consider training the girl as your apprentice?"

"She certainly has the skill, and the hunger for learning. If Miss Swan is willing to undertake in this, then I don't see any reason not to." He sounded sincere, but the professor's face was still grim.

"You will of course, be paid apprentice wages for your work," Dumbledore added. My face slackened. "I suppose I ought to think about it. May I have until Christmas to decide?"

"Of course, my dear," Dumbledore smiled. "Well, Gror, if you wish to return to the mountains you may, although you may be more interested in bodyguard work from this point on."

"I want to stay with the girl for the time being, if you don't mind," Gror replied.

While they discussed that, I went back to my letter.

_This just happened now – the headmaster offered me an apprenticeship working for the Chemistry teacher. He offered me wages, which is very generous of him, and I'm sure there aren't any first-years to get this sort of opportunity (the Chemistry professor hasn't taken on any student in his whole career as far as I'm aware.), though if I'm going to work for Professor Snape I know the man to be very exacting and dedicated (gruelling). I have until the end of Christmas to make a decision, so please write back and tell me what you think (or send me a phone, we've gone back to the medieval period here)!_

_Miss you more! Don't pine for me, mom – you've got Phil._

_From your loving prodigy child (lolz),_

_Bella._

I rolled up the parchment and got up stretching. "All done. Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore looked as pleased as punch. "Gror will accompany you to the owlery, Miss Swan." I made my way over to the mountain troll and we were about to leave when the headmaster called out, "Oh, and Bella?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Happy birthday."

The school owl I picked out had been all too happy to track down my mom and deliver my letter after spotting the troll waiting for me just outside the door.

I felt a little bad, but Gror would hardly eat one of the school owls now.

He carried me all the way down to the dungeons and into the Slytherin common room (I had to give him directions since he didn't very well know his way around) where all the students were lounging about after the feast.

A few girls screamed and ran for their dorms, but we ignored them and Gror set me down on a couch near the fireplace before sitting on the floor at my feet (he was still taller than me).

Draco and his cronies sauntered over to sit across from me, then.

"Where were you all afternoon?"

"Having tea with a troll," I said drily.

Goyle stared nervously at the mountain troll and asked, "Is that the troll that made Professor Quirrell faint in the middle of the Great Hall?"

"No, there's another one running around free in the castle," I joked. All three of them paled, but Gror laughed. "That silly man with the turban? Wasn't he ridiculous, Miss Swan!"

"It – it spoke!" Crabbe gasped.

"Aren't trolls supposed to be incredibly stupid?" Draco asked tactlessly.

Gror's smile was malicious. "Only compared to some."

"Well," I yawned, "I'm exhausted, Gror. Would you mind guarding my bed?"

"Sure. Where is it?"

I led the troll over to my wall. He read the sign and growled. Draco had been brave enough to follow me, pale as he was around Gror.

"You know, I never see you actually sleep here, Swan."

"Are you implying that you've been trying to watch me sleep?" I teased, lying on the floor. Malfoy blushed like a pretty little maiden.

"You wish, Mudblood," he tried to sneer.

"I really don't. Well, goodnight then."

"Wait!" he darted around the troll and squatted in front of me. "Look, the girls might still be too afraid of you to let you back in their dormitories, but the boys don't mind you. If you want, there's a spare bunk in my dorm with Crabbe and Goyle. You can move in with us if you don't mind Goyle's snoring."

I sat up. "That's actually very generous of you, Draco."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't look so surprised, Swan. You helped me out in Charms today even though we don't get along; I just wanted to show my… appreciation."

"Well…" I faltered, "If it got Snape off my back over sleeping arrangements, that wouldn't be too bad, but…"

"But what? It's a great offer!"

I shrugged. "Should I give you boys a day to get rid of anything embarrassing or stinky?"

There was that blush again. "Uh… right. Crabbe and Goyle may have to remove some of their old socks. So, tomorrow night, then?"

"Sounds good."

Draco smirked in way of goodbye, and left me to my own devices. He was the last to leave the common room. I sighed to Gror. "My bedroom is actually through here, but promise you won't let anybody know. I've told Snape the wall is booby-trapped."

The troll nodded in agreement, and I stepped through the wall. Fred and George were waiting on the other side. "Happy Birthday, Bells!" they screamed, which made me scream in surprise and trip over. Fred caught me with a chuckle.

"Thought you'd get away with it, did you?"

"Fancy hearing it's your birthday from a house elf! Appalling," George agreed.

"We thought we were your friends!"

"We thought you loved us!"

"What kind of person keeps their birthday a secret, anyway?" Fred asked.

"Bella Swan, of course!" they cried in unison.

The twins walked across my bedroom to the wardrobe. "So, as punishment, we asked that house elf of yours to bring everyone here for a sleepover party!"

Just as they announced this, a group of people filed out of my wardrobe. Hermione stepped out first, then Harry, Ron, Neville and Lee, all donned in their pyjamas and wearing stunned expressions.

"Gaw!" Ron exclaimed. "I didn't realise just how much they're spoiling the Slytherins here!"

Hermione swatted him with a book she'd brought. "Don't be ridiculous Ron, Bella's room isn't like the others – who else have you met that has a slide leading from your trunk to their room?"

Ron scratched his head. "Didn't think of that."

Hermione gave me the book. "I got you this, from the library. It's _Ancient Wizarding History, Volume One_. Thought you might be interested."

Neville looked around curiously. "How do you get in?"

I took his hand and led him to the wall opposite. When we were standing directly in front of it, the barrier changed, revealing what was on the other side. Gror was standing dutifully in front of my 'bed' and if there were any Slytherins in the common room, they'd have a hard time seeing around him to notice I wasn't there. "There's a troll in Slytherin common room!" Neville gasped.

"His name's Gror," I told him, "and he's guarding what everyone believes to be my bed."

"Why would you be sleeping in the common room?" asked Harry, moving closer to the wall.

"I was evicted from my dorm," I said lightly.

Fred and George already knew this, but everyone else looked affronted.

"They can't just do that to you!" Ron growled, and Harry nodded beside him.

Lee looked like he wanted to bust some heads, and Neville appeared as though he may cry. I patted him on the back. Hermione kept her cool head, though, for which I was thankful.

"She still got the better deal. I, for one, don't think I could stand sleeping with a bunch of people I don't get along with."

I blushed. Hermione's words reminded me of Draco's earlier proposition and I still didn't know what to make of him.

"Um, about that. Snape found out I was kicked out of the dorms and has been harassing me about making new sleeping arrangements so I'm not 'vulnerable' or something. Anywho… Draco offered me a bed in his dorm with Crabbe and Goyle."

"WHAT?!"

"TELL HIM NO!"

That was from the twins.

"I wouldn't trust him," Ron said simply. "He could be trying to think of another way to humiliate you."

Lee nodded.

Neville rubbed his arm hesitantly. "His family isn't known for tolerating Muggle-borns, Bella."

"Why'd he say he was offering?" Hermione asked.

"I helped him figure out Wingardium Leviosa in Charms this morning – he was the first to get it properly and Flitwick gave him points, so he said he didn't want to seem ungrateful for my help."

Harry was looking at me strangely again.

"You know, Bella, he does seem a bit fond of you – I mean, for a Malfoy."

I shrugged. "If it gets Snape off my back, I'd consider it."

The twins shared a look.

"Come on, everybody; find a spot on the bed." I crawled under the covers. "It's late and I'm tired." Neville tried to get a spot beside me, but the twins beat him to it, taking a spot on either side of me. He ended up stuck between George and Lee, who was beside Harry. He and Ron had Hermione sandwiched between them.

I smiled sleepily. Mom would be proud of all the friends I'd made.

_**AN: Just FYI, I'm not making Bella a twelve year old for this fic - she's eleven like her peers, but her birthday's just a little later in the year. I was working as closely as I could within reason to Snape's own timeline - Bella's conception is supposed to have been a little before he found out about the prophesy and changed sides because it seemed to me he already knew she was preggers by then, so I couldn't logically make her a year older than Harry.**_

_**It was simply easier to assume the school could make allowances for someone's birth date than to say good ol' Sev got drunk and knocked up some American tourist out of despair for the Potter spawn that hadn't yet been conceived.**_

_**Thanks for caring enough to make the comment about it though, Fast Frank. You're my first reviewer!**_

_**So awesome!**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

As we entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows, defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch, bundled up in a long mole- skin overcoat, rabbit-fur gloves and enormous beaverskin boots. The Quidditch season had begun.

Fred and George would talk non-stop about practice at breakfast, and Draco boasted at dinner about how Gryffindor would be creamed in their first match against Slytherin. After my birthday, I took him up on his offer and told Snape I no longer had need of his bedroom since I'd made new arrangements.

The both of them had become much more bearable since then.

Sooty had worked tirelessly to accommodate for the changes in sleeping arrangements. Draco's dorm had a wardrobe of its own because his father was rich enough to make sure his son didn't live out of a trunk, and of course Draco lorded this over his inferior friends, though I didn't mind because it became a new entry point to my own bedroom (I have no idea how those other two could sleep through Goyle's snoring. It was horrendous.)

The day before their first Quidditch match, I was with the twins in the library. I was trying to research the game, they were hiding from Filch. They'd mixed a potion in Mrs Norris' kibble to turn her fur a fluorescent yellow and to set off an Intruder Charm whenever she left the man's office. Filch was understandably furious.

"Hey guys, do you know where I might find Quidditch Through the Ages?"

The twins stared blankly at me and I rolled my eyes.

"Right. I'll ask the librarian."

Madam Pince informed me that the book I was looking for had been loaned out to Hermione Granger. Oh. Well, maybe I could borrow it from her for a bit.

I told the boys I was looking for The Golden Trio as they'd been dubbed, and left the library.

"Snape took it," Harry scowled after I asked about Hermione's book. "'Said books aren't allowed outside the castle and took it."

"And he took five points off our house for a made-up rule!" Ron exclaimed.

I frowned. What could have put him in such a bad mood?

"Did he seem… different in any way?"

"No… I mean, he was limping, but what's that got to… oh."

Clapping my friends on the shoulders, I smirked. "I'll get your book back, 'Mione. After dinner, though. He'll have had a chance to get a hold of himself."

"Better you than us," they chorused.

That evening after the feast was over (Snape was notably absent), I made my way down to the staff room and knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. I pushed the door ajar and peered inside – and a horrible scene met my eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled.

Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

I slipped quietly into the room and closed the door behind me. Two heads shot up at the sound of the door clicking shut.

"Do you not trust Madam Pomfrey, sir?"

"SWAN!" the professor roared.

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg.

I advanced carefully, looking about the room for the confiscated library book. Ah! There it was, on the desk behind Snape. Closing the distance between me and the injured man, I reached around him and grabbed the book. He was giving me one of those dark looks he usually got when I hugged him, and I smiled and patted his trembling hand.

"I just came here for this, but if your leg is bothering you, I've got something that works pretty well for that too, if you'd rather not visit the hospital wing."

The caretaker looked at me suspiciously, and Professor Snape seemed like he couldn't decide whether or not to be angry at the intrusion or suspicious at my innocent response.

He was struggling to compose himself, and his voice shook. "What makes you think I am incapable of treating my own injuries, Miss Swan?"

I fixed the two of them with a look. "Only the fact that I'm watching two_ wizards_ use bandages on a wound that can be fixed within moments."

His mouth twitched into a smirk. "Ever the observant one, aren't you? Very well. I'll allow you to use whatever it is you believe will help."

"But sir, she's only a first-year!" Filch protested.

"Give me your leg," I ordered.

Snape once again pulled up his robe to reveal the bloody, mangled mess that was his leg. I hissed, shaking my head. "Looks like a dog bite, only bigger. And you've let it fester, silly man. Have you had a chance to test the infected area for diseases like rabies, or a magical equivalent?"

The professor stared at me crossly. "I scourgified the wound as soon as I could."

I frowned. "When did the wound occur, sir?"

He seemed reluctant, but at last he answered, "Halloween."

"Thank you. On a scale of one to ten, one being mild discomfort and ten being excruciatingly unbearable, how would you rate your pain, sir?"

"… Eight."

I placed one hand beneath his knee and the other under his ankle, concentrating.

Latin seemed to work well, so I began with something for the pain. "Recéde dolor…"

With a flash of white light, I could feel his leg lose some of the tension he was holding.

"And now, sir?"

"Four."

"Recéde dolor…"

A light sigh. "Two."

"Good. I'll stop there, I want you to be able to give an accurate response to what happens next. Despite your efforts, professor, it looks like infection was quick to settle in. Mr Filch sir, can you take a look and give him a second opinion?"

The caretaker furrowed his brows as though being acknowledged by a student in this way was surprising, but he did as I asked.

Leaning over Snape's leg, he took a careful look, pursed his lips and nodded. "It's very inflamed, sir, and discoloured in a few places. What will you do, miss?"

I gave him a quick smile as Snape glowered at the two of us.

"Thank you. It's got to be purged. Are you ready, professor?"

Snape nodded quickly, and I concentrated once more.

"_Vulneret__purgentur_!"

The Potions Master cringed as pus, and strange-coloured blood and bits were drawn from the punctures in his leg into a surprisingly large floating blob of stinking mucus. Filch pulled a face, and I focussed on making the blob Vanish, which it did in a flash of white light.

I checked out his leg carefully, making sure there weren't any more signs of infection before getting ready to perform the healing spell.

Nodding to Filch, I waited for him to double check and then I uttered the prayer I'd used on Sooty's hands.

The three of us watched as the punctures closed like they had never occurred. When I withdrew my hands and picked up the book I'd set down, I noticed both men staring at me.

"Where did you learn that healing spell?" Snape asked in a dangerously soft voice.

I shrugged, smiling. "It's just Latin for 'the wounds are healed.' The other spells are Latin, too. I made them up, just now."

The professor's eyes bugged out. "You just made them up? And I was what, your test subject?"

"If it makes you feel any better, sir, I didn't use any foolish wand waving," I retorted drily. He adjusted his robes appropriately and stood up, towering over me. "There is that consolation," he said through clenched teeth.

"Glad I could help. Cheerio!" I nodded to the two men and walked from the room, book in hand.

"So, did you see what he was limping about?" Ron asked as I handed Hermione her book and followed them through the port hole.

"Looked to me like a really big dog-bite. Like, enormous."

The Golden Trio shared a knowing look. "The three-headed dog," Harry muttered quietly, but I still caught it. So, they'd been in the out-of-bounds room.

"I wonder who could have brought such a big, dangerous animal into the school." I said in an air of cluelessness.

Hermione, good, noble Hermione was the one to answer me.

"We don't know who, but we know where! In the room in the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side. And it's guarding something – we ran into it – by accident," she amended, "and it was guarding a trap door."

"Hum, that's interesting. A giant beast-"

"Three-headed dog-" Hermione corrected.

"-Is guarding a trap door in Hogwarts. You know, there was an article about a failed robbery at Gringotts on Harry's birthday. I've been to Gringotts, it's a pretty maximum level security place. So, if whatever Hagrid picked up from there is being guarded here, I doubt there's only a dog guarding whatever it is."

"How do you know about any of that?" Harry asked.

"I bumped into Hagrid when Snape took me shopping, remember? There was a parcel that fell out of his pocket – it felt small when I picked it up, and Hagrid told me Dumbledore wouldn't be pleased if he lost the thing. And then there was that article in his hut, I read it over Harry's shoulder and connected the dots."

Aware that if I kept speaking, I'd break my promise to Snape, I stood and stretched.

"Well, if you guys figure anything else out, let me know. Whatever it is down the trap door, I bet it's interesting. I've gotta go to the common room before Draco gets grumpy with me for not being there when he needed intelligent conversation."

I slipped out of the common room and made my way into the twins' dorm, hopped into Lee's trunk and slid down to my 'secret lair.'

Gror had taken up a position as assistant groundskeeper at the school, and so he was now busying himself with various tasks around Hogwarts, and no longer guarding my wall. So I checked the common room barrier as usual before stepping through the wall and standing behind a couch on which Draco sat. I leaned over the back of the couch and spoke just beside his ear.

"Just so you know, Malfoy, I'll be cheering for the Weasley twins tomorrow."

The blonde boy jumped off the couch in surprise, and then whipped around angrily.

"You know I hate it when you do that!"

I grinned. "But it's good for your health, Draco. Gets the blood pumping and all that… Where are Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Down in the kitchens, trying to stuff their faces," Draco sneered. He patted the space beside him, and I sank down onto the couch.

"Trust you to cheer for those bloody Weasleys. When I get on the Quidditch team, would you cheer for me?"

I smirked. "Not unless you're really good, like George and Fred."

He scowled. "I bet you a Galleon I'm better on a broom than they are."

My eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Are you making a bet out of jealousy, Mr Malfoy?"

His cheeks flushed pink and he said nothing.

"They're my first Wizarding friends; of course I'm going to cheer for them."

The blush crept to the tip of Draco's ears. "I… I hope you don't think badly of me for how I treated you, you know, in the beginning."

I gave him a sly look. "No, I don't think badly of you for that." He looked relieved.

"Only for how you treat my friends," I finished.

"I offered him my friendship before we even got to Hogwarts," the boy defended, "but he refused. Chose Weasley over me."

"Well, I did too. You don't exactly make an excellent first impression, Draco."

And now he was pouting.

I sighed and rose from the couch. "Big day tomorrow. I'm going to bed."

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. I watched on as Harry's friends encouraged him to eat too.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry looked terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking on to the pitch, and even though he'd been practicing for ages, he suddenly looked like he was preparing for humiliation.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined.

It said _Potter for President_ and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colours.

Meanwhile, in the Slytherin grandstands I had made myself comfortable on Professor Snape's left side, exchanging his suspicious look for a good-natured smile.

"Draco told me this morning," was all he said.

My smile widened. "If it helps, sir, part of my decision rests in the poor sportsmanship of my House. 'Cunning' shouldn't have to be interchangeable with 'underhanded' like so many take it for. Gryffindor's obnoxious and arrogant, but you can't fault their sense of justice."

"I can," Snape retorted.

"I'm still cheering for them."

"Annoying brat."

"Bitter nepotist," I returned, grinning madly.

"Am I the only professor to suffer such disrespect from you, Miss Swan?"

The smile dropped off my face. "I suppose I forgot how old I am. Sorry, sir. My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I

laughed, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult."

"What is your mother like?" he asked me suddenly.

I glanced over to see him studying me with curious eyes.

"She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," I said. He raised his eyebrows. "I have too much Charlie in me. She's more outgoing than I am, and braver. She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend." I stopped. Talking about her was making me depressed.

"You miss her."

I said nothing, since it was a fairly obvious statement.

"I suppose the Weasley twins are a perfectly good distraction from your depression," he said in a bored voice, "though I think you'll find if you take up this apprenticeship you won't have time to pine over anyone, let alone continue tagging along on their childish escapades."

He was staring down at me critically, waiting for me to snap and say something inappropriate in response. I smirked and rolled my eyes. "Of course you choose to look at it like that."

Just as he was about to reply, the Gryffindors walked out on the field to great cheers from all houses but Slytherin. I stood up and cheered right along with them.

"FLY, MY FLAMING FISTS OF FURY! PUMMEL THOSE ROTTEN SNAKES INTO THE DIRT!"

The twins looked up and flashed matching brilliant smiles at me while Snape glared down his long nose at my outburst.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too – "

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like an eagle up there – he's going to sc– no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and Gryffindor take the Quaffle – that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by Slytherin – that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger – sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes – she's really flying – dodges a speeding Bludger – the goalposts are ahead – come on, now, Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This must have been part of his and Wood's game plan.

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let out his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannon ball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it beating the Bludger furiously towards Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry spotted it. For a kid who needed glasses, he could have a pretty sharp eye when he wanted to. In a great rush of excitement he dived downwards after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled towards the Snitch – all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in mid-air to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs – he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead – he put on an extra spurt of speed – WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below – Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose and Harry's broom span off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors. And me.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Snape's eyes lit up in malevolent glee while I cursed and berated good ol' Marcus from my place beside the professor.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul –"

"_Jordan, I'm warning you –_"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger which went spinning dangerously past his head that it happened. A chill went down my spine, and the very air around me felt dead, mute.

"Something's not right," I told Snape in a quiet, frightened voice.

Harry's broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees, and I pointed to him with my chin. The Potions Master caught on quickly and immediately locked his gaze on the boy, muttering a counter-curse. If he failed though… I balled my hands into fists, ready to leap out and rescue my friend at a moment's notice.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. It was zigzagging through the air and every now and then making violent swishing movements which almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose – only joking, Professor – Slytherin score – oh no ..."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands.

His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

I spotted Hagrid's enormous frame, dwarfing Harry's two friends as they seemed to be catching up to the situation. I still had chills rolling down my spine, but I knew better than to interrupt Snape in his counter-curse.

_Hang in there, Harry._

His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. I noticed when Hermione disappeared from the Gryffindor stands after spotting Snape in the binoculars. Obviously, the bright witch had jumped to the wrong conclusion. The whole crowd were on their feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely on to one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. But that's when the curse lifted.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

My eyes widened, and I shot around Snape to block Hermione's path. She didn't see me, though, and I was bowled over in her hurry, knocking my head on the bench until I saw stars. By the time I sat up, Snape was stamping out the fire in his robes, and Harry was speeding towards the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick – he hit the pitch on all fours – coughed – and something gold fell into his hand. I didn't hear his next words, though, as something trickled down my face.

Was that… blood? I started feeling the top of my head.

Sure enough, my hand came away red and sticky with blood… And I could smell it. Before I knew it my head was spinning, I was getting nauseous and I'd lost my balance, tipping over the front of the grandstands.

I couldn't help but feel embarrassed that this was how I was going to die. A scream sounded in the air, and it took me a moment to realise it was mine. Why wasn't I flying? Maybe it was the dizziness and the horrible fear that I'd vomit in my own face.

It surprised me when my fall was halted by so many hands grabbing onto my body, though considering I'd interrupted the end of a Quidditch game it shouldn't have.

I opened my eyes – when had they shut? – and stared. Fourteen pairs of eyes stared back at me. Every player on the field had dove to my rescue, and not one of them was glaring at anybody from the opposite team. I drew in a shaky breath and tried to calm myself.

"Harry." My voice shook.

His eyes met mine.

"Very nice save for Gryffindor, Potter. Tell Hermione… just this one time… she was wrong. And I'll be accepting Chocolate Frogs while I stay in the hospital wing. As for the rest of you… you're all awesome and I need to be on the ground now so I can lose my stomach contents."

There was a chuckle from the Weasley twins and Marcus Flint, and the players lowered me carefully the last few feet. I got down on my hands and knees, determined to crawl out of sight and vomit in peace.

I had no such luck, and only managed to make it a little ways before my stomach heaved up my breakfast for all the students viewing pleasure.

Someone Vanished it, scourgified my head wound and scooped me off my feet. Oh.

"Professor Snape…" I was feeling terribly queasy, and he must have noticed because he held me further away from his body.

"You feel faint at the sight of blood?"

"More like the smell," I corrected, breathing shallowly through my mouth. "It smells like rust, and salt."

"Fascinating," he mused. "I'll be sure to keep you away from cliff faces and the like if you get a papercut."

I smiled lightly, not feeling the energy to laugh. "Where would be the fun in that?"

"I refuse to give you a Quidditch player escort, Miss Swan."

This time I did laugh. "We could always charm the school grounds to cushion incredible falls, sir."

A low chuckle sounded in the man's throat as he carried me smoothly up to Madam Pomfrey. "It may become necessary. By the way, thank you."

"For what?" I asked.

Snape's expression became stony. "For alerting me. A moment makes all the difference in counter-cursing."

That reminded me… "It was Quirrell. When another kid knocked him over by accident, the curse stopped… Also, he's hiding Voldemort under his turban."

"Your powers of observation, Isabella… are terrifying. However, what proof do you have of this claim?"

"Not enough," I sighed, "but you're already watching him. Because you, me and Dumbledore know he's suspicious. I know that a hooded figure lured Gror into the school. That you were bitten by an enormous three-headed dog, one of the many security measures the teachers have set in place to protect the Philosopher's Stone. A stone, apparently with astonishing powers of alchemy – one of which is in the production of the Elixir of Life. It makes sense that Voldemort would be after such a powerful item."

Snape nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes. Get to the part about why he would be underneath Quirrell's turban, if you please."

I held up a couple of shaky fingers. "Two reasons. First and foremost, he's attached to the back of Quirrell's head because he doesn't possess his own body yet. Being mostly dead and all, he probably doesn't have enough strength to keep himself alive in a body of his own. Thus the need for a life-giving elixir. Secondly, control issues come with the title of 'evil overlord' so naturally he'd want to keep a very close eye on his servant. I imagine the fear he can instil by inhabiting someone else's body helps that goal, too."

He considered this as we entered the hospital wing and he set me down on one of the beds. Madam Pomfrey was quick to give me some foul tasting tonic and close the wound on my head with a quick spell.

"I'll have her stay the night to rest and let that tonic work," she told my professor quietly. "If there are no complications, she can leave in the morning for breakfast."

"I don't want breakfast," I told them, my skin going a light green at the thought of my breakfast's second showing today.

The Potions Master rolled his eyes and asked to speak alone with me, to which Pomfrey agreed reluctantly. He put a muffling charm around us and lowered himself into the seat beside my bed to converse in his usual low tones.

"By tomorrow you'll find any lingering distaste for your morning meal out the window, so to speak." Of course… it was probably the tonic's doing, I thought absently.

He was still speaking. "… I must ask you not to involve yourself further in this Philosopher's Stone business. If your claims prove to be true, I do not wish to see you come to harm by getting in the way of Quirrell. As you well know, everything is not as it seems. I want you to promise to keep out of this as best you can, Bella. Will you do that for me?"

I nodded solemnly. "I promise, sir."

"Good." He nodded sharply, rising to his feet. Just before he could escape though, I caught his hand in one of mine.

"Now you promise you'll be extra careful."

He smirked, and bowed his head. "How touching. Very well. I promise to be more careful than usual."

I was still grasping his hand tightly, and he gave me a slightly annoyed look. I sighed, loosening my hold. "I don't see how you expect to have time for an apprentice, Professor Snape, with all the rest of this thrilling drama."

Lucky we were in our own muffled little bubble, or the rest of the hospital wing would have witnessed the cold-hearted Severus Snape throw back his head and laugh freely.

Then he leaned down with a smirk on his lips and murmured, "It's all a part of the penance, Miss Swan." And with a swish of his robes he was gone.

When Hermione came to Isabella's bedside just before dinner bearing Chocolate Frogs and a concerned expression, she hardly expected the icy glare Bella was facing her with.

"Look, Bella, I am terribly sorry for knocking you down – I should have watched where I was going and-"

Bella held out her hands, palms up, and Hermione sheepishly placed the box of sweets in them.

"You're wrong about Snape, but I forgive you," the Slytherin girl said before biting the head off a Chocolate Frog and looking at the card inside the wrapper. "Oh, it's Dumbledore!" she said brightly. "Here," Bella passed the card to Granger, musing. "I wonder what kind of alchemy work he did with Nicholas Flamel…"

An owl swooped down in front of my plate the following morning, dropping off a letter covered in my mom's scrawl. I swiped open the envelope with a butter knife while Baron peered over my shoulder curiously. I hastily read her reply.

_Hi Honey,_

_How wonderful to hear about all the friends you've made! I wish I could come and meet them all, though as you know, Phil likes to keep a tight schedule so his team can get the training they deserve. Speaking of training, I know you like to learn and push yourself further than your peers, so I really don't see why you shouldn't go for it! Your headmaster sent me a letter of his own detailing what it would involve. He's a very informative, helpful man, that Professor Dumbledore. Be sure to thank him for me!_

_Oh, my little girl is growing up so fast! I don't know if I can bear to spend the next six years without seeing you, my Bella!_

"WHAT?!" My outburst shocked several of the students sitting close by, but I didn't care, abandoning my breakfast to stalk up to the High Table and thrust the letter under Dumbledore's nose. "Do explain why I'm apparently not coming home for the next _six years_, Headmaster!" I managed to control the volume of my second outburst, but only just.

The old man sighed, leaning back from his pumpkin juice. "Those are the terms of any wizarding apprentice, Miss Swan. Should you choose to accept an apprenticeship, your school breaks will be spent under the private tuition of the Master of the trade. Since you are already an exchange student, Severus and I thought it would be in your best interest to remain either at Hogwarts or at Severus' own living quarters."

My head dropped to my chest and my mom's letter crumpled in my hand. "And when were you planning on telling me? After Christmas?"

"I'm sorry, Isabella. I should have explained a regular wizarding apprenticeship to you when it was first offered to you. Forgive an old man his slow mind?" He spoke sincerely, but my eyes narrowed anyway. "This time. But don't think I'm falling for that old man stuff. Be honest with me next time."

Dumbledore had a twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, you're a sharp one, Miss Swan. How about you go back to your table and finish your mother's letter, hm? I'm sure the rest of the school would love to know nothing dreadful has actually happened. And, just so you know Miss Swan… Severus and I are eagerly awaiting your decision."

Blushing, I did as he asked. Thankfully, the Baron asked no questions until after I finished my letter.

_But don't worry about me, Bella. I'm doing just fine with Phil here to remind me where I've left the car keys. Say, here's an idea! Why don't you send me a photo of you together with all of your friends? That way, when I do finally meet them I can put a name to a face._

_OH, and about trying to get me to buy you a phone – No way, missy! At least not until you're fifteen, like every other normal kid. Besides, sending each other letters by owl is kinda neat in its own way, I think._

_Your school seems very exciting, Bella, though I wonder how you've managed to stay accident free up until now. You're not keeping things from me, are you?_

_Oh, Phil's just asked me out for a romantic dinner, so I've got to go now._

_Stay safe. Lots of love, sweetie._

_Your mom. _

I sighed.

"She seems rather cheerful for a mother finding out she won't see her daughter for six years," the Baron mused darkly. I sighed again.

"There's no way I can send her a picture of all my friends. The pictures move, half of my friends hate the other half, you're non-corporeal and Gror's a troll. I'll have to tell her they're not allowed."

"What will you tell her about your almost-death?"

"Nothing. I'm gonna take up that apprenticeship, too. When it's all over, I'll go live with Charlie for awhile, I think."

Baron fixed his blank gaze on me. "That's a very big decision to be making at your age, Bella. Are you absolutely sure?"

I shrugged. "Mom gave me the go ahead, so yeah. Who knows? I might finish in less than six years and go back home early."

He nodded slowly, a tiny smirk in place. "I would not expect any less from you, Bella Swan."

We finished breakfast in a more cheerful manner, and I made sure to stop in at Dumbledore's office later to write a brief reply.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban (and coincidentally, Voldemort's fat face as well). The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver post had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the draughty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where our breath rose in a mist before us and we kept as close as possible to our hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke, so the brat never saw my knuckles turn white as I stirred at my potion. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that Slytherin had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realised that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

As for me, I was still a little disappointed about not seeing any family for Christmas, and so Draco's comment stung a bit. Ron and his brothers were staying too, because Mr and Mrs Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie, so that made things a bit better for me. At least I wouldn't be alone.

When we left the dungeons at the end of Potions, we found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told us that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

My fist connected with Draco's jaw and launched him back into Snape's chest just as the man came up the stairs.

"You know, Draco," I said sweetly, "With all that money, I'd have thought your parents would be able to buy you lessons on how to be a civil human being. I suppose it was too much even for them."

The Gryffindors' eyes went wide, and the trio had enough sense to shuffle away after Hagrid.

"What's your problem?" Draco shouted after Snape set him on his own two feet. "I never even insulted you!"

I saw a flash of white, and suddenly we were nose to nose while Snape, Crabbe and Goyle watched on. "You insolent, insensitive brat! If you can't respect what some people have to give up for this school then you and I are gonna have a real problem!"

"That's quite enough, Miss Swan," Snape stepped in to pull us apart. "I won't have you harassing other students in such a manner."

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed Draco's chin, smirking when he flinched, and looked at his jaw where I'd hit him. A bruise had already formed and he yelped when I prodded it gently.

"Come on, Malfoy," I released his chin only to take his hand and tug him forward. "I'll take you to Madame Pomfrey to get rid of that bruise."

He came quietly – probably sulking – and his two bodyguards trailed along after us carefully.

Madame Pomfrey looked like she couldn't decide between disapproval, or amusement that Draco got hit by a girl. I think amusement won out though.

Especially when he ordered Crabbe and Goyle to leave so he could apologise to me privately, blushing all the while.

"I'd prefer it if you apologised to Hagrid and Ron," I told him sternly, and the pink on his cheeks spread to his ears. He certainly wasn't happy about it.

"It was them you insulted, remember?" I prompted.

Draco scowled. "What will you do if I don't? It's not like you can get away with assaulting me again. My father –"

"Will have a ferret instead of a son if he doesn't teach you not to be such a self-important git," I growled. He gulped. "But I really can't just apologise to them, Bella! I have expectations to uphold. If father hears I've been listening to a- a Mudblood-" he cringed as he said the word even though my face remained impossibly calm, "and I'm suddenly not behaving as a Malfoy should, he'll have my hide and probably yours, too."

My growl was in frustration this time. "Your dad sounds like a jerk, Draco. Enjoy your Christmas with family." I got up from my seat to ditch him and his friends, but he latched onto my wrist. "Wait! You're staying here for Christmas? You're not going back to America for the holidays?"

"I'm not _wanted_ at home," I mocked his earlier words, causing him to blush again.

"Then I really am sorry," he said, for once sounding sympathetic.

I left him behind, letting Crabbe and Goyle return to escort their ringleader back to the common room.

The Hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls and no fewer than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

Once the holidays started, I spent most of my time memorising the secret passageways in the castle Fred and George had taken me through this year, but mealtimes were spent at the Gryffindor table with my friends, admiring the wonder that was Hogwarts at Christmas time.

On Christmas Eve, I went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all, considering how quickly my mom seemed to have forgotten me. When I woke early next morning, however, the first thing I saw was a pile of packages at the foot of my bed. The second thing I saw was Sooty, close to my head. She bowed and whispered, "Sooty had all these presents brought from Young Miss Isabella's dormitory so the mistress could open them with her friends."

I thanked the house elf with an affectionate hug, and she popped out of the room smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"Happy Christmas," said Fred sleepily as I scrambled out of bed and pulled on my dressing-gown. George stepped out of the ensuite, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Yeah, merry Christmas, you lot."

They sat either side of me and placed one of the wrapped gifts on my lap. "This one's from us."

I opened it eagerly, bits of torn wrapping paper falling to the ground. My eyes widened. "A new parka… wow, thanks you guys!"

The Weasley twins beamed at the praise. "We asked Dad to find you a Muggle snow jacket and replicate it with extra charms to keep snow and rain away," Fred said.

"And it'll always fit you snugly, too, so you'll never grow out of it!" George added eagerly.

They had been really thoughtful, and I could feel warmth growing in my chest and overflowing to my eyes.

"You guys are the best," I whispered, kissing Fred on the cheek and then George. They both went a magnificent shade of red and prompted me to try on the lovely parka.

"A perfect fit for our perfect Bella!" they chorused. I began opening my other presents.

_An Advanced Guide to the World of Animagi_… that one from Hermione. Interesting… I wonder if McGonagall would be in favour of telling me a little about her own Animagus uses. I set the book aside to read later.

I actually had a letter from Charlie and my friend Jacob Black, detailing their plans to save up and come visit me Christmas on my third year, since my dad had found out from Renee that it was likely I wouldn't see them for the next six years.

Charlie had also bought and sent me the entire works of Jane Austen in special edition so I could get all the extra bits of back-story and Period information.

Jacob sent me a book about motorbike mechanics with a cheeky note that read – _So you'll know what I'm talking about when I start ranting about my baby. Merry Christmas, Bella!_

I was surprised by the next few presents I got. I hadn't expected anything from Hagrid (he sent me a book titled Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them), and I certainly never asked Draco to go ahead and have his mother send me a large package of date-filled shortbread biscuits she'd baked for the occasion.

Her note was equally as sweet.

_Dear Miss Swan,_

_Draco has told me what a special friend you are to him. He also mentioned you're an exchange student and won't be able to see your own parents for the holidays._

_For now, I hope you enjoy the shortbread, since I made it with a mother's love._

_Have a pleasant Christmas, Bella._

_Regards,_

_Lady Narcissa Malfoy._

Finally, the gift I'd received from Neville was the nicest of them all. He got me a potted, enchanted cactus. The card attached said it was linked to the person who owned it, feeding on the previous day's atmosphere while they slept. In turn, it would transfer the darkness and the damp into warm sunlight, storing it up so that the cactus would release small bursts of sunshine when the owner tended to it.

I placed it on my bedside table with pride, making a mental note to thank everyone for such lovely gifts. I would have to think really hard next Christmas to get them all nice presents. I was just glad nobody had gone and gotten anything extravagant or showy.

Feeling quite merry, I suggested to the twins that we go see their presents and then bombard Harry and Ron too.

In no time we were bursting through the younger boys' dormitory door after checking out Fred and George's presents.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look – Harry's got a Weasley jumper, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue jumpers, one with a large yellow F on it, the other with a large yellow G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's jumper. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned half-heartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid – we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving.

He had clearly come halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy jumper over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I – don't – want –" said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the jumper over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the Prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his sides by his jumper.

I had never in all my life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys, mountains of roast and boiled potatoes, platters of fat chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic crackers were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones my mom usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear-admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up on the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry and I watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lop-sided. I just winked at him and pulled a cracker with George. He won a grow-your-own wart kit.

Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight in the grounds while I sat out of the way and watched, grinning. Somehow, it seemed like Harry didn't normally have this much fun at home. Then, cold, wet and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room with me trailing along dry and happy, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. I suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a tea of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, we all felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor Tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been my best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of my mind all day. Not until I climbed into bed was I free to think about it: my apprenticeship. I'd never actually told Snape and Dumbledore yes. Quiet as a snake, I slipped out of bed and went to my wardrobe…

"And this is me seeing through your booby-trapped wall façade, Miss Swan," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes when Isabella Swan stepped out of his wardrobe for the second time. She merely straightened up from brushing off her robes and looked him in the eye.

"I'd like to take the apprenticeship, Professor Dumbledore."

The elderly man appeared amused for some reason.

"I'm very glad to hear you say so, Isabella. I'll inform Severus in the morning, and he shall begin with you in his own time. Now as for this secret passage of yours, who may I ask is responsible for its construction?"

The girl's face was sombre.

"You can't truly expect me to give up that information, can you, Headmaster? That would be a betrayal of trust, and besides, it's not causing harm to anyone."

The Headmaster's eyebrows rose. "You've not used it to help the Weasley boys in their pranks?"

She smiled. "As much as they'd love that, I haven't allowed it. I don't actually want to cause unnecessary trouble, you know."

"Very well," Dumbledore said, "I'll allow you this secret of yours, since you've been very mature about it. Consider it my Christmas present to you."

Bella smirked at this, reached up on her tiptoes and kissed the man on the cheek. "Thank you, Professor. Merry Christmas."

And then she stepped back into his wardrobe, closed the doors behind her and disappeared.

"You knew!" Granger hissed one day when she returned from holidays. "You already knew and you didn't tell us!"

So they'd _finally_ figured out who Nicholas Flamel was, I guess. Still… "Knew what, Hermione?"

We were on our way down to the dungeons for Potions with Snape, so we couldn't really linger in the halls, but Hermione spoke in a rushed voice as we approached our target.

"Oh, how _Slytherin_ of you, Bella," she snapped. "Fine then! If House allegiance is more important to you than keeping Harry safe, then why don't you just shove off and stay away from us?" The bright little Gryffindor stalked ahead of me to her own seat, leaving me to stand in the doorway looking like a kicked puppy.

"Miss Swan, I have need of you today, if you would please come to the front of the class," the Potion Master's silky voice reached my ears from across the room. I shuffled to the front of the room, leaving my books in the empty spot beside Neville. As I brushed past the professor he muttered, "Whatever it is, Swan, bury it. Quit broadcasting your misery."

I did as he asked, arranging my face into the picture of calm before Snape started the lesson. He had me demonstrate a potion developed in the medieval period, for use in witch burnings. Drink the potion and flames had no effect on your body. I read the recipe briefly and set to work, with Snape commenting on things like how big a difference chopping and crushing made in the end result.

After the potion was finished, Snape lit a small fire from the end of his wand, bid me drink the potion and put my hand in the fire. I did as he asked, but noting the looks of horror from my classmates, made a minor adjustment to the plan.

The potion felt like ice, and I shuddered as I drank it, but when I put my hand in the flames I screamed and made it look like I was in a lot of pain. Neville fainted and a lot of the Slytherins went pale with fear, while the Gryffindors were all terribly confused and started casting baleful glances at Snape for wilfully harming a student. Snape was shocked, wondering how the potion could have possibly failed, and when my sobs turned into giggles I pointed at him.

"Gotcha, Professor." I presented my unburned hand to my classmates. "And all of _you_, too. Professor Snape wouldn't have made me demonstrate how the potion is supposed to work if it wasn't going to. Lighten up."

"You may take your seat now, Miss Swan. Now, everyone open your textbooks to page six hundred and fifty-two."

The next Quidditch game was upon us before I had time to register that Snape had volunteered to referee the game. I looked down at the young teacher from my spot beside Dumbledore. Snape looked mightily uncomfortable on a broomstick, I noted, but I wasn't going to feel sorry for him since it was his decision to go the extra mile protecting Harry. Besides, he'd probably try to give Hufflepuff the advantage in the match, anyway. But Dumbledore was here for the game now, so there was no way Quirrell would try anything this time. I sighed. "I suppose it would be too easy for you to simply ask Quirrell to take off the turban, wouldn't it, Professor?"

The Headmaster looked across the stands to where Quirrell sat watching the poor excuse for a game. "On the contrary, Miss Swan. While Quirrell believes his intentions remain hidden, the easier it is to manage the danger to all the students. Exposing him in public may result in him taking desperate measures. You understand this, of course."

I nodded. "Yeah, I do. Though I'm a little concerned that the Golden Trio are gonna try something incredibly stupid. They know about Old Nick and that little rock."

Here, Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, but they believe the danger lies with Severus. Their bias against him is what's keeping them safe. Besides, I have a feeling that if Harry were to confront Quirrell on his own, the boy may surprise his foe by winning. He has a certain talent for that," the old man said as Harry abruptly won the game by catching the Snitch.

We rose from our seats and parted ways, me to go find Hermione and Dumbledore to seek out Harry and congratulate him.

By the time I tracked down Granger and Ron, they were back inside the castle. I ran to catch up with them, calling out even as I tripped over a corner of carpet. Peeves shot around the corner, cackling with glee. "Ooh, I got another one! Time to play, ickle firstie!"

Before Ron and Hermione had fully turned around, the poltergeist had grabbed me by the hair and was now zooming up the stairs, playing a game he liked to call 'Saved Ya!' in which he would drop me mid-flight and then catch me roughly with his pinching fingers and shout "SAVED YA!" in my ear.

Eventually he got bored and dropped me good and proper. I had enough momentum to tumble down two sets of stairs and crack my forehead open on the boot of a shining suit of armour. "Brilliant," I groaned, too sore and dizzy to move.

I'm not sure how long I laid on the cool, stone floor before somebody found me and carried me to the hospital wing. I didn't even realise who had done the carrying until Madame Pomfrey came in and started asking questions.

"What happened here?"

"It was Peeves, Madame," Hermione said, her voice taking on a hateful tone I wasn't accustomed to. "We saw him drag her away by her hair and we chased after him straight away."

"But we didn't find Bella until after he dropped her," Ron added crossly.

I opened my eyes slowly and, after the room stopped spinning, stared at the two Gryffindors. They grabbed my hands and squeezed tightly.

"You alright?" Ron asked worriedly.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Mind leaving us for a minute, please Ron?" Hermione asked mutedly.

He gave us a funny look before wandering away with Madame Pomfrey to give her more information. Her hand dropped away immediately.

"Don't get me wrong, Bella. Fred and George would have killed us if we just left you there."

Her words stung, but I gritted my teeth and replied, "You're right. I didn't share what I knew about Flamel. I tried to give you a hint to help you along, but I can't just outright tell you everything I know. I… made a promise. It's a complicated agreement. But that's not the point. Look, I know your heart is in the right place, 'Mione but your clever little head isn't."

Granger inhaled sharply. "Are you- are you… making fun of me?"

My face darkened and I growled, "No! Quit treating me like I'm just another Slytherin! You're my friends, and I want to help Harry as much as you do! I just-" I took a calming breath and spoke in a low voice that even she had trouble hearing. She had to lean up close just to catch my words. "I just don't have the freedom to be as _straightforward_ as you, Granger. Please, can you trust me?"

She blinked in surprise at the honest, open look in my eyes. "O…kay. I think I can do that."

Smiling, I changed the subject. "The book about Animagi you sent me was so wonderful, I've finished it twice already. It was a really lovely gift, thanks. Have you read it before?"

Hermione positively beamed.

I was able to return to school without anyone else the wiser about my rather violent run-in with Peeves, and Snape began testing my various capabilities and level of maturity as his apprentice. We had a brief argument when he had me mark a minor quiz for my peers one evening after dinner. I'd charmed the papers to reveal the name of the examinee only once I'd finished marking so I wouldn't make any premature judgments, but Snape was displeased that my criticisms were constructive and not belittling.

Of course, it didn't help that I reminded him that I wasn't a nepotist like him and believed in fair grading, because his face went purple as he yelled at me for criticising his teaching methods. He could certainly be frightening when he lost his temper, but it was still him who backed down first when he realised an eleven year old was being more mature than him.

After taking stock of all the ingredients in his store cupboard at the end of every week, we'd sit down in his study and work quietly side by side –Professor Snape on grading his older students work, and me on the enormous load of homework and assessments the rest of the staff were handing out in preparation of our first-year exams.

Sometimes he would vent about Harry being just like his father: an arrogant, self-important little troublemaker. I'd calmly wait until he was finished and then ask him things about Lily, which usually worked to put him in a better mood. And then I'd change the subject and find ways to get him to talk about himself, like the first potion he made in school, whether he listened to music (rarely, and when he did it was usually from the classical era since that was all his mother listened to when he was a child) and his favourite season (summer, since that was when he didn't have to deal with Dumbledore and a castle full of dunderheads).

By the time Easter came and went, I was ahead in all my schoolwork (actually, Snape had agreed I take my exams early so I could get on with my apprenticeship, so I was pretty much finished for the year already) and now stayed back with Professor Snape simply to lighten his workload by taking over the grading so he could do what he loved most: run detention.

He was currently making Nev scrub out cauldrons after the poor boy wrote down the wrong ingredient from his horribly stained potions book and caused a chain of exploding cauldrons with a recipe that would have impressed Seamus Finnigan, if the boy hadn't been in the hospital wing taking another dose of hair tonic to help his eyebrows grow back.

Neville looked up at me in surprise, but was much too afraid of Snape to even say hello. That didn't stop me, though. "Hey Neville, I don't think I ever thanked you for that enchanted cactus you got me for Christmas."

The boy blushed nervously, muttering "You're welcome, Bella," while he continued scrubbing. I skipped over to him quickly, aware of Snape's eyes on my back as I leaned over to kiss my friend on the cheek. "It was the best present anyone ever got me. I love it. Thanks, Nev!" The boy risked a smile. "Really?"

"Is there a reason you're disturbing Longbottom's detention, or are you simply here to fraternize?" Snape's voice cut through the lighter mood in an instant and Neville paled, returning his attention to the cauldron in front of him. I gave his shoulder a final squeeze before making my way back to the Professors desk. I held up a test paper. "I'm having trouble reading this paper–"

"Fail them. I'm not going to waste time attempting to read someone's work if they haven't bothered to make it legible."

I held his cold gaze for a long moment. "If you'd let me finish, sir, I was going to say I'd like to grade papers in a more lit area, like the library or the staff room since the dark is straining my eyes. If I keep going like this, I'm going to need reading glasses."

His eyebrows rose. "Is that so? Very well, Miss Swan. Take the papers to the staff room for grading. I won't have you working in the library where you can be interrupted by the students. And once you're done, go see Madame Pomfrey about a potion for your eyes. Here's your hall pass." Snape wrote on a slip of paper and charmed it to stick to the back of my hand for the next eight hours before shooing me away.

I smiled at Neville encouragingly as I passed him by.

Now to track down the student with unintelligible writing and give them another chance to pass Snape's class. The name at the top of the letter read 'Wood, Oliver.' Hmm… the captain of the Gryffindor team. I smiled. Poor fellow.

"Hey look, it's our little Belly-Boo!" Fred exclaimed when Bella climbed through the port-hole to the Gryffindor common room, a messenger bag strapped over her left shoulder. She was the only non-Gryffindor who'd ever been allowed through the Fat Lady's portrait since Fred and George had secretly convinced her of the girl's utter goodness and purity, and the special place she had in their hearts. A romantic to the core, the Fat Lady never hesitated to let the girl in when she came to call on the twins.

George waved the girl over to join them at the couch in front of the fire. She sank down into the cushions with a sigh, speaking in a tired voice. "Do you know if Oliver Wood is about? I have to speak with him about one of his classes."

"Sure!" they chorused, looking at the exhausted girl with pity. "We'll bring him to you," George offered. She nodded, bag resting in her lap as she rested her head on the back of the couch. They had to nudge her awake ten minutes later when Oliver came down to see what the Slytherin girl wanted.

She woke with a start and blushed. "Oh, hello Oliver. Thanks for coming to see me."

"Is there something I can help you with?" the older boy asked, his tone cold but polite. She pulled his exam paper from her bag. "Snape has me marking exams, but yours is… sorry, I couldn't read it." Her head ducked down as though this failure embarrassed her. Wood stared at her, perplexed. "You're a first year. What's he got you grading exams for?"

She swallowed. "I'm his apprentice. It's as much a test of my limits and capabilities as it is… a way for him to relax a little."

"… Right. So, you can't read my exam paper. Why didn't you just hand it over to Snape to fail me?"

Bella frowned as though his casual demeanour was upsetting. "I was going to ask him to read it, but before I finished my sentence he said I should fail you. It made me cross, so I told him I couldn't read it because the poor light was straining my eyes and he gave me permission to do the grading elsewhere."

Fred grinned. "You outsmarted the slimy old git."

"The Head of Slytherin," George marvelled. Oliver seemed impressed too, and a little shocked. "You're giving me a second chance, then?"

She smiled broadly. "Just read me the paper, and I'll mark it according to what's there."

The Quidditch captain sank down into a seat opposite the tiny girl. "Really, for a Slytherin, you're not so bad."

Turns out, the boy passed with an E for Exceeds Expectations once he'd translated the scribbles on his page. Bella suggested he get coaching over the summer break for his handwriting, though.

Draco had been acting suspicious ever since the break after Herbology, and he had a malevolent smile on his face for the following couple of weeks – exactly the kind of smile a villain gets when they see a weakness they can exploit. I noticed that whenever the Golden Trio noticed this smile, their own looks were pale and uneasy. Hadn't they spent the last week or so down at Hagrid's hut? What did he have down there that had Draco so excited and the Gryffindors so worried…? Obviously something dangerous, or illegal.

When I was on break between Snape's errands on Saturday, I decided to do a little discreet investigating.

Gror looked up with a smile when he saw my approach.

"Hello, Gror! Hagrid's certainly been keeping you busy," I smiled in greeting.

The troll I'd befriended was currently stringing up several dead rabbits and turkeys to drain the blood out of them. "Miss Swan," he nodded respectfully, "I've taken over many of the gamekeeper's duties in the last few weeks. Something has… stolen his attention. He stays in his hut all day unless he's going out to kill a chicken or fetch some more brandy. I think perhaps…" and he crouched down, lowering his voice to a quiet grunt, "and you must tell no one, Isabella, but I believe he may have a baby dragon in his hut."

My face scrunched up in thought. "What brought you to that conclusion?"

The troll's smile was unpleasant this time. "The days are growing very warm, but still smoke rises from his chimney. And it is common knowledge in the magical realm that dragon eggs only hatch in extreme heat. Also, when Mr Hagrid does come out, I smell burnt hair and flesh, and I hear a sort of crooning sound from inside. It is not very loud, but I have exceptional hearing. And then, in the last few days I noticed that red-haired boy got bit – he's had to go to the hospital since his hand's gone green."

My face slackened, and then several emotions passed across it. First was anger – how could Hagrid do something so thoughtless as harbour a dangerous _illegal _creature on school grounds? Worry was next – if the Golden Trio hadn't already figured out a way to be rid of the beast, then Malfoy could very well cause Hagrid the loss of his job. Finally, I settled on wary confusion. How did the man get a hold of something as illegal as a dragon egg? Had someone suspicious traded it to him, and for what?

I talked with Gror a little longer to find out how he'd been keeping (amiably, as far as trolls went) before heading back up to the castle to eat and get back to work.

But for the rest of the day and then late into the night those questions niggled in my mind, until at last, a little after midnight I was finished with my tasks.

"Are you so bored already?" the Professor was quick to pick up on my faraway demeanour after my lunch break.

I bit my lip. "Something is bothering me. A puzzle… no, not a puzzle. A question."

"Of course you would have a bothersome question," Snape muttered sarcastically. I'd grown used to it.

"Did Quirrell ever get past the first security measure on Halloween?"

"No," Snape said shortly. A slight pause. "Do you have reason to believe he has figured out a way past it?"

"No," I lied, "I just wondered how he escaped without getting bitten whereas you basically got mauled."

"Hagrid certainly chose an effective security measure," Snape praised reluctantly, though with an obvious note of bitterness.

I stretched, listening to several joints pop. Snape watched me curiously.

"Professor, would you mind if I went for a walk? I believe some fresh night air would help me unwind and get some sleep."

His mouth twitched. "I trust you. Goodnight, Miss Swan." He wrote me another hall pass that stuck to my hand, and shooed me away.

"Goodnight, sir."

I wandered the castle aimlessly, reminiscing when my feet took me past McGonagall's office. She had been very obliging in the Christmas break when I asked her about her experience as an Animagus. I learned that the reason it was a part of the advanced subjects was because of the technical skill required in transfiguring your body but not your mind, and how vital it was to study and invest yourself in the subject before trying it – because if you didn't, the chances of accidentally transfiguring yourself were a lot higher. Another thing that McGonagall mentioned was her own Animagus. She had transformed a cat because she was a cat person, had grown up with a beloved cat and had many fond memories revolving around the family companion. The character of the witch or wizard would always be reflected int the animal they became.

It was intriguing, something I'd been studying in secret ever since my conversation with the Head of Gryffindor. If only I could think of a creature whose character suited mine...

I halted when I caught the sound of several distressed voices.

"Harry!" Neville burst out. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag–"

He cut himself off suddenly. Had they found a way to get rid of Hagrid's new pet? Looking both ways first, I peered through the crack in the doorway. McGonagall was towering over Neville, Harry and Hermione, looking ready to breathe fire.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr Filch says you were up the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves."_

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

Harry caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. What a mess they'd made.

I backed away from the door and set myself a new course. The Astronomy Tower. How did they get all the way to the Astronomy Tower, _with a dragon_, and not get noticed until afterwards?

I made quick work of climbing the stairs that lead to the Astronomy Tower, and when I finally reached the top, I noticed the cloak that lay in a heap on the floor. I picked it up carefully, draped it over my shoulders and looked down. Ah. An Invisibility Cloak.

Making a quick decision, I hid myself beneath the cloak and set out for the gamekeeper's hut.

When I reached the door, I banged loudly, folding the cloak up and tucking it under my robes. A puffy-eyed Hagrid opened the door, surprised that anyone would be coming to see him at one o'clock in the morning.

"Miss Swan? What're yeh doin' 'ere?"

"I was working," I told him briskly as I slipped through the tiny gap in the doorway. "Your baby dragon has been sent away, but Harry, 'Mione, Neville and Draco were all caught out of bed because of it. I imagine they'll all receive detentions. You're lucky nobody believes Malfoy about there being a dragon, or you'd be in a serious amount of trouble, Hagrid."

I sat down on one of his dining room chairs, while the disgruntled half-giant ambled over to one of his moth-eaten armchairs.

"Yeh comin' to blackmail me, then?" he grunted, and I chuckled darkly. "Hardly, sir. You're a good man. A little careless, perhaps, but still good. Besides, there's no longer any evidence against you, so what would be the point?"

Hagrid smiled beneath his beard. "So what's botherin' yeh then, lass? Yeh wouldn' be 'ere at this time o' night, otherwise."

I considered the best way to word my question. "How did you convince the dragon dealer that you were capable of caring for a baby dragon? They're so _dangerous_, after all."

The gamekeeper's eyebrows rose. "I work with all sorts o' dangerous creatures, Bella. I told 'im about one I've worked with recently, is all."

"Oh?" My eyes lit up with interest. "Like what? Anything in that fascinating book you got me for Christmas? You know, I saw something about Acromantula in there–"

Hagrid cleared his throat noisily, his face taking on a defensive expression. "Er, no – nothin' like that, Bella." _Sure._ "But I raised this giant three-headed dog up from a pup, so I told him about that. Good guard dog, Fluffy is."

"A three-headed dog," I gave him an impressed look. "You really do have a way with animals, don't you, Hagrid? No wonder he gave you that dragon egg…"

Hagrid glowed with pride, even though his eyes went misty – probably missing his baby dragon.

"Sorry I bothered your sleep," I apologised warmly. "I'd best be getting back. Thanks for talking to me."

"Wait!" he suddenly stood up. "How did you know I was raising a dragon? Did Malfoy tell you?"

I shook my head. "Gror's been keeping an eye on you, making sure you're okay. He was worried, you know."

That settled it. Quirrell had probably asked if Hagrid knew how to settle Fluffy so he could get past the beast, which meant immediate measures had to be taken. Stuffing Harry's cloak in one of my drawers, I summoned Sooty the house elf.

She bowed before me, noting my serious expression. "How may Sooty be of service to her mistress," she asked quietly. I held her gaze steadily. "House elves are more powerful than wizards, right? I mean, you can Apparate within the walls of Hogwarts when nobody else can."

Sooty nodded, ears flapping as she did so. I held out my hand. "What I need you to do for me now, nobody can know, Sooty."

Her eyes widened, but still she expressed her desire to follow my orders. I held out my hand for her to grasp. "You know the layout of this castle well?"

Again she nodded.

"Then you are to Apparate, taking me to where the Philosopher's Stone is hidden, under the trapdoor in the forbidden corridor on the third floor. There will be security measures. I want you to take us beyond them so they won't be disturbed."

Sooty got a determined glint in her big, round eyes, held my hand tightly and soon I felt the familiar sensation of Side-Along Apparating. When the world stopped spinning, the two of us stood before a towering mirror with words carved into the frame: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

How clever. When you look into a mirror, any words printed will come out backwards in the reflection. It was almost the same as this. I read the inscription backwards, slowly. _I show you not your face but your hearts desire._ Oh, Dumbledore, you clever, clever man.

I looked in the mirror, thinking above all else how I wanted to find the Stone before Quirrell could. My reflection stared back at me for a moment, and then she smiled. Mirror Bella put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a blood red stone. She winked and put it back in her pocket, and as she did so, I felt something heavy drop into my real pocket. Somehow – incredibly – _I'd got the Stone._

And then an ingenious idea formed in my mind. By now I'd had enough time to adjust to the fact that I was different, that magic worked so easily for me because I was a different kind of witch to everyone else. _A Primus Maga_...

Anything that came to mind was worth a shot.

I traced a line from the centre of the glass pane to my left eye and muttered a phrase in Latin that roughly translated to 'I Spy'. Testing the new spell, I shut my left eye and turned away from the enchanted mirror. It was an odd sensation, seeing my little house elf in front of me and the back of my head at the same time.

I opened my eye and decided to place an altered version of the Intruder Charm over the doorway. If anyone crossed the threshold it would initiate a silent alarm throughout the rest of the castle, causing the candles to flicker like strobe lights for a ten second count. Long enough to alert any of the teachers that something was off. I smiled at Sooty. "Take me back to my room, please."

The house elf did so, and I was quick to bury the Stone within the depths of my underwear drawer. "Make no mention, no hints whatsoever of any of this, Sooty, and don't touch the Stone."

She bowed low and replied, "Sooty will obey," and then promptly Apparated back to the kitchens with the other elves. I charmed all of my drawers to lock whenever I left the room, and fell into my empty bed, asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The Golden Trio mellowed down considerably after the school woke the next morning to find Gryffindor House down by one hundred and fifty points. It didn't seem fair. Hermione, Neville and Harry were being given an almost school-wide silent treatment.

Meanwhile, I was back to work as usual, none the wiser about my late night secret mission. Now all that remained was for me to keep watch over my friends. Hagrid had sent me a note at breakfast to say he was taking the foursome into the Forbidden Forest for their detention, and so I started making a plan of my own.

"Hey, Belly-boo! Wood wanted a word with you, come on!" George pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. I rose silently, following the younger twin who added, "Besides, the _Seeker_ doesn't deserve your attention."

My eyebrows rose and I scowled. "How _charitable_ of you, Mr Weasley. It's not like you and your brother haven't lost plenty of points for your House before."

His face darkened. "Sure, but not a hundred and fifty, not _all at once_."

We'd stalked over to Wood by now and I felt my face heat with passion as I defended the poor boy. "You _idiots_! Harry's not like you and Fred, deliberately causing trouble! Whatever he did to lose those points was for a good reason, and I'm not saying that because I'm in Slytherin. I believe in Harry. And Hermione, too. She's too much of a goody-two-shoes to let her friends do a horrible prank on Draco, no matter how much of an infuriating prat he can be." I sat down.

The Hall had gone terribly quiet and Professor McGonagall was staring at me like she was trying to read my mind. I must have raised my voice a little too much. Finally, she rose from her seat and approached me with an air of suspicion.

"Miss Swan, do you have information you'd care to share with us on the matter of this past incident?"

I smiled. "Just one thing, Professor McGonagall." I saw Harry and Hermione shoot pleading looks at me out of the corner of my eye.

"What is it?" she asked crisply.

"Draco should've lost more points."

Snape gave me a sharp look from across the room. I shrugged. "Why should he not lose another thirty points? His crime is the same as theirs: being out of bed, out-of-bounds and giving you the most rubbish excuse for it. To be frank, Professor, it's a display of either favouritism or fear that only lost him twenty points."

Her nostril's flared, but then she smirked for a moment. "You know, Miss Swan, I do believe you're right."

Draco was looking at me like I'd totally betrayed him, which I had, but I didn't care. McGonagall went on, more loudly. "In the name of equal punishment, Slytherin will lose a further thirty points for Draco's disregard to school rules."

As she returned to her seat, George leaned in to whisper in my ear. "You sly fox, Bella!"

Fred appeared by my side and whispered in my other ear. "Using your Slytherin wiles to invoke McGonagall, it's brilliant!"

My face remained passive and I pushed them away from me. "Sorry, Oliver, what did you want?"

The older boy hid his smirk quickly upon seeing my expression. "Uh, right. I just wanted to see if you had any free time today for a study period in the library this afternoon."

"I'm all booked on weekdays, Oliver. Try me on a weekend," I offered with cold politeness before leaving the Great Hall.

Snape treated me with the same coldness I'd shown the twins this morning. He'd added more to my workload so by the time I'd made my last trip to Madame Pomfrey with her orders she'd nearly kept me overnight for sheer exhaustion. I had to use the Renervate spell discreetly just to get out of there and back down to the dungeons.

It was ten to eleven, and I was rushing to finish work so that Snape would release me, but he noticed my haste and commented.

"Do you have somewhere to be, Miss Swan?"

"Just an appointment with my bed, sir."

"You think you deserve sleep when your dorm-mate must stay awake in detention?"

"It's his fault for getting caught," I retorted. "And the whinging, whining, spoiled brat thing doesn't work for Slytherin. His family, maybe, but not House pride. If you want to punish me for being fair to everyone, that's your prerogative. But it's also _your_ problem if my work as your apprentice suffers due to lack of sleep."

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes, calculating. "Fine. You may go, for now. But expect your Saturdays to become... _all booked._" His smile was nasty, but I returned it genuinely. "Thank you, Master Snape."

I caught his surprised look just before I turned on my heel and left the dungeons at a brisk pace.

In my messenger bag that I dropped off to my room was a flask of energising brew I'd made myself. Every sip would energise the mind and body for an hour per sip. I took four sips and tucked the potion away before casting a dissilusionment charm on myself, twirling my wand around my body as though binding it up in ropes. That would get me through the castle easily enough. I ran through my secret passageway to Dumbledore's office, leaving Harry's Invisibility Cloak on the man's desk. He'd make sure it got back to Harry. Then I was straight off to the entrance hall of Hogwarts, where the foursome would be meeting Filch to take them to their detention. I made it just before the man got there and stood waiting for the children. He looked positively gleeful.

Draco was the first to arrive, and he was silent and afraid, standing there alone with the caretaker. I half-wondered if I should have gone easier on him.

The three Gryffindors were quick to follow, all looking quite sorry.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he continued, leering at them.

"Oh yes ... hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me ... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out ... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed ... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

They marched off across the dark grounds, me trailing along behind carefully. Neville kept sniffing.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, everyone could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. I slipped quietly around the back of Hagrid's hut, thinking about what George said at breakfast. He said I was sly, like a fox. He was right. Since I'd been Sorted, I'd grown far more sly and cunning than my old self would have dared. But it suited me. Foxes were small and fast too, and woods were full of them, so right now, my first true test of skill would be in this transformation.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on morphing my body into the small, sleek shape of the fox. After a few moments, I felt a whole array of strange sensations all over my body. Shrinking, pulling, tugging, growing, and finally, a little tingle and I knew it was over. I inspected my feet – no, they were paws, now, and what was that swishing?

Oh.

It was my _tail. _I was distracted briefly chasing it when I remembered what I was here for.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

I skulked out of my hiding spot behind the hut and wandered over to a thick tree at the edge of the Forest to watch the exchange from a safer distance with my keen new eyes.

Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy – it's into the Forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one

piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The Forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night – there's all sorts of things in

there – werewolves, I heard."

Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.

"That's your lookout, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding towards them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back towards the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that Forest," he said, and Harry looked pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be writing lines or something. If my father knew I was doing this, he'd –"

"– tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Writin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!"

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the Forest. Holding his lamp up high he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the Forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the Forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Harry an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practise now – that's it – an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh – so, be careful – let's go."

The Forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path and Harry, Hermione and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville and Fang took the right. I followed the first group, glad I wouldn't have an enormous bloodhound tracking me down, and kept an eye on Harry.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver blue blood on the fallen leaves.

Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried. He could be quite perceptive, that boy.

_ "Could _a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asked.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn,

they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt an' then we'll be able ter – GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Harry and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak, nearly stepping on me in the process. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of them listened. My foxy ears twitched, picking up the odd sound as well.

Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded

away.

"I knew it," he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Harry suggested.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself – I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came – was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped.

Mine did too, but I snapped it shut quickly since I was supposed to be a fox.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this Forest. This is Harry Potter an' Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We'd noticed," said Hermione faintly.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm –"

"A bit," said Hermione timidly.

"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah,' said Hagrid, glancing up too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt – you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upwards, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated while Hagrid watched

him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The Forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and-bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? Only there's a unicorn bin injured – would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skywards.

"Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

But the first centaur was staring at me now, bidding me stay with his eyes.

Harry and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

I waited.

Ronan tilted his head. "Little vixen, you are far from your home, following the children. Who will keep _you_ safe from danger?"

I broke his gaze and trotted after Harry's group, scenting him out. Hagrid's rough voice in the distance certainly helped.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy star-gazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of _them _in here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, a fair few ... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word.

They're deep, mind, centaurs ... they know things ... jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.

"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns – never heard anythin' like it before."

As I caught up, they walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking nervously over his shoulder, like he was suspicious of someone watching him.

I don't think he was worried about me, though. Whatever else was in this forest... that's what he was looking around for.

They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermione.

"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville ... It's our fault he's here in the first place."

I stared up at the boy. I knew I'd defended him for a good reason. Hoping to cheer them a little as the minutes passed, I came out of the bushes I'd been hiding in.

They were close enough to see me, but not quite enough to reach me if they tried.

I pretended to play with a dormouse, leaping in the air and rolling on my back to flick my paws. Hermione spotted me first, and nudged Harry. "Look," she whispered, "a fox. Isn't it sweet?"

The two watched me silently as I 'played' on the forest floor, their eyes a little lighter. I danced around in a little circle, making tiny yipping sounds, chased my tail and rolled around in the moss.

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return, and I bolted back into the bushes.

Malfoy, Neville and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming.

Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him for a joke. Neville had panicked and sent up the sparks.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups – Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Harry, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."

So Harry set off into the heart of the Forest with Malfoy and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the Forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick.

The blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look –" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. I had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly white on the dark leaves.

Harry had taken one step towards it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered ... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy and Fang stood transfixed. I stalked forward, until I was crouched behind a tree root. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, it lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted – so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry – unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly towards him – he couldn't move for fear.

Thinking quickly, I let out a piercing cry that echoed in the night. The hooded figure turned his gaze upon me while Harry staggered back, wincing in pain. He was clutching at his scar, like it was burning him. I let out another sharp cry, louder than the first, and bared my razor sharp teeth.

Another step forward, and I moved to block the figure's way. I heard hooves behind us, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry and me, charging at the figure. It fled speedily. Harry had fallen to his knees, and it looked like the pain was taking a little while to subside.

A centaur was standing over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body. He gazed at me steadily.

"I commend you, little cub, for your bravery," he said. "But it is not safe enough for you to linger here. Off with you."

I fixed him with a look and set a paw on Harry's hand. The boy didn't notice, he was still in pain. But the centaur suddenly understood. "I shall carry you both back to safety, then."

He reached out his hands, and I jumped lightly into them so he could hold me near his chest. Finally overcome with exhaustion, I started to doze off...

Harry was regaining awareness, and he stared up at the new palomino centaur. And what was that in his arms? Was that... a fox?

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet with one hand.

"Yes – thank you – what _was _that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar which stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"You are the Potter boy," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The Forest is not safe at this time – especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way. My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harry could clamber on to his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered, waking up the little fox with a start. "What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realise who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this Forest, the better."

"What have you been telling him?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously.

"I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said, in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our Forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to grab his shoulders to stay on.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this Forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.

Harry didn't have a clue what was going on.

"Why's Bane so angry?" he asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches but did not answer Harry's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought Firenze didn't want to talk to him any more. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail-hair in Potions."

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to save yourself and you will have but a half life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"But who'd be that desperate?" he wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed for ever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else – something that will bring you back to full strength and power – something that will mean you can never die. Mr Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher's Stone! Of course – the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who –"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return

to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: _"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."_

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was _Vol–"_

"Harry! Harry, are you all right?"

Hermione was running towards them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"I'm fine," said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you and your brave little friend," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry slid off his back, and the tiny fox was passed into his arms.

"Good luck, Harry Potter,' said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the Forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him.

Hermione stared at him oddly for a moment. "Why'd he give you a fox, Harry?"

"Um," the boy looked down at the little creature in his shaking hands. It stared back up at him curiously. "I dunno. He was holding it when I came to."

Just then, Neville burst through the thicket huffing and puffing, spotted the baby fox and went absolutely gaga over it. "Oh, what a creature! How lovely, look at her fur, and oh, isn't she beautiful? Mind if I have a hold, Harry? I promise I'll be extra careful."

The thing seemed to have a mind of its own, since it wriggled out of Harry's arms and leapt onto Neville's chest playfully.

Just as Harry and Hermione began to get a little suspicious of such a friendly animal, the cub bit poor Neville on the nose while he crooned to her, causing him to drop her in fright. He chased after the tiny creature that ran into the bushes just as Draco and Fang made it to the clearing. "Where's that idiot running off to?"

I played the game of tag with Neville all the way to the edge of the forest and over to Hagrid's house. "Oh, you clever little thing," he praised when I trotted over to him and swatted his hand playfully. "You led me out safe and sound, didn't you?"

He took my growl and 'play-dead' as a yes, scratching under my chin in a way that seriously felt like bliss.

"Can I keep you?" I was about to tell him 'no' by way of snarling, but he beat me to it, and I listened in awe as he continued to scratch under my chin while he talked. "Oh, but I've already got Trevor. He's a toad. You know who else would love you, though? My friend, Bella. She's the sweetest, kindest, smartest most beautiful girl I've ever met. She's special. Different to the other people in her House... Nobody expects a Slytherin to be so... nice. Especially to someone like me. But Bella is. Whenever we're in classes together, she'll sit beside me even though I'm so clumsy and bad at magic I'm nearly a Squib. She was so busy keeping me clear of a potion I'd stuffed up she didn't notice it was covering her in boils instead. And in our first flying classes, I lost control of my broom, and she caught me right out of the sky and made sure I wouldn't get hurt. She's like my guardian angel..."

The boy's mind seemed to drift away in thought, and I used that moment to run away and slip into Hagrid's hut to transform back into myself.

Utterly exhausted, I curled up on the gamekeeper's old sofa chair and went to sleep with a smile on my face. Neville was a keeper.

"And what do yeh think _you're_ doin' 'ere, Bella?"

"Came to make sure they survived detention," I responded blearily, opening my eyes a crack at the towering man.

"Yeah, they made it alright. Yeh missed breakfast though, lass, and Professor Snape's bin' lookin' fer yeh. In a right foul mood today, yehr professor."

I got up and stretched, popping joints and loosening cramped muscles, still bone tired. Maybe I should've slept as a fox.

"Are you gonna tell on me, sir?"

"Nah, yeh didn't mean any harm, lass. But yeh best get going before Snape throws a fit."

"Thanks, Hagrid," I yawned, before walking back up to the castle like a zombie.

Unfortunately for me, the first person to come across me was, well, not a person, but the school poltergeist.

"Ooh, it's you again!" he cackled with glee. "My favourite firstie!"

Snape was not pleased. Bella had been missing all morning, and now it was lunchtime and still no one had seen her. He sat fuming as children chattered and laughed amongst each other at their House tables.

Until a Hufflepuff girl started screaming. Blood was trailing down her face, but she was pointing at the roof above her.

Bella was hanging from a floating chandelier by her hair, stained in the blood that dripped onto the students below. A mass of young witches and wizards created a stampede to the exits, leaving their lunches behind, and those who stayed behind were bid to join their classmates outside the Great Hall. McGonagall went to fetch Madame Pomfrey while the other teachers helped escort the students to their common rooms. That left only Snape and Dumbledore, whose gaze followed Quirrell as he made his exit.

The Potions Master didn't hesitate, floating up to the chandelier without a broom to aid him, and cast several nonverbal spells in succession to untangle her hair, clean her up and try to revive the unconscious girl.

The last was unsuccessful, due to an enormous amount of blood loss, but he'd returned to the ground by that time and Madame Pomfrey had burst through the doors to take over care of the student. The girl was lifted from his arms and onto a floating stretcher.

"We'll have to send a letter to her mother," Severus muttered quietly to Dumbledore, but the man's reply was cut off when a panicked voice reached him.

_Where did you go?_

_ I'm afraid..._

_ Am I dying?_

_ I feel so weak._

_ Please... don't leave me alone. _

Severus rushed over to the girl and took her tiny hand in his. "You foolish girl, the only thing you need to be afraid of is me when you wake up!" Somehow, the threat lost all of it's bite, but that didn't matter. "And don't think you'll be getting sick pay either, Miss Swan."

_...Master Severus?_

"Yes, it's me."

_Please don't tell my mom._

_ She'll bother you thirty times a day for answers you don't have._

_ When you're trying to sleep._

_ You'll want to kill her by the end of two days, tops._

_ My past schools will corroborate._

Even weak and comatose, the girl was still using whatever means she had to reason with him. "Fine. Now, try and get some rest. Just... relax for a little bit. You're safe now."

The girl sighed in his mind, and then went quiet. Just to be sure she wouldn't panic again, he accompanied her stretcher up to the hospital wing, scaring away her other visitors to sit alone with her awhile.

I'll admit it, I'm going to miss this.

The moments in between boredom, that is.

Sure, I'm healing, and it's nice to have some rest from the slave-driver that is my Potions Master, but laying in a hospital bed for days and nights on end only has so many perks.

Still, it is nice.

Between the final exams I get plenty of entertainment from my friends when they can spare it, and Master Severus has taken all of his marking up to my bed with the curtains shut of an evening, sorting papers into various piles on top of my prone body.

I can tell he misses me because he mutters about how much he hates 'babysitter duty' and that my sudden 'illness' is putting him behind in his work (he's lying, we were two weeks ahead when I had the incident).

Yeah, Snape isn't so great at expressing fondness like normal people.

However, I had heard that word of my incident reached the Bloody Baron, and after he had a little 'chat' to the school poltergeist nobody's seen hide or hair of Peeves since.

Nobody knows it was Snape who told the ghost in the first place – nobody except for Draco. He came up to bring me the news personally that Peeves wouldn't be bothering me again.

So that settles things for me. I've already finished my school year with flying colours, and I have nothing to fear except the grumpy mood my Master will be greeting me with when I wake up. I look forward to it.

It was well after curfew when it happened.

The candles burst to life brightly, and then blew themselves out again. This process repeated itself for ten seconds, and everyone was wide awake by the time it stopped happening.

In the Gryffindor tower, the common room slowly filled with students, and Percy Weasley was among them, puffing his chest out self-importantly. He wasn't the first to notice a stiff Neville Longbottom on the floor, but he was the one to release him from the full Body-Bind spell.

The poor boy burst into tears immediately. "I tried to stop them, but I failed. I'm so sorry."

"Stop who, Neville?" Percy asked in his best voice of authority.

"Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were going out after curfew. I hope it was as important as they thought it was, or we'll lose the rest of our House Points!" the boy wailed.

Meanwhile, the teacher's had gathered in the staff room. Snape was the last to arrive, fully dressed in his black teaching robes while some of the others had come straight down in their nightclothes.

"I've never known the school to do anything of this nature before in my time here," Binns remarked in his monotonous voice.

"Whoever charmed all the candles to do that would have had to be incredibly skilled," Flitwick added his piece.

"But why would anyone waste their time on such a pathetic excuse for a prank?" Minerva McGonagall asked crossly.

"Because it's not a prank," Severus answered in his silky voice. "Someone has awoken the entire castle and caused us all to come together for answers, but there are two missing here."

"Yes, well Albus had to go to the Ministry of Magic for an urgent matter," Minerva replied snippily.

"Of course, Minerva, but where is Quirrell?" Snape asked.

"He's probably quivering in his bedsheets, afraid of some nasty omen," Filch snorted.

"Or he's in trouble!" Professor Sprout snapped.

"There _is_ that possibility, yes. But Quirinus would not use such a stealthy means of alerting us all to the danger he may be in. I expect he would be somewhat... louder."

Filch chuckled darkly, and the other teachers frowned at him.

"So, if it's not a prank, then what is it?" Flitwick squeaked.

Snape's mouth twitched. "It appeared to be a silent alarm. This is mere postulation, but it would seem that one or more of the students has been snooping around the out-of-bounds corridor and decided the item within requires added protection."

Minerva's face darkened. "Potter. And his friends. They were babbling about it this afternoon-"

_Master Severus, the corridor's been breached!_

The Potions Master stiffened. Of course the alarms would be hers. Which meant...

"Isabella Swan, when I am through with you..."

Minerva gave him a queer look.

_I see Quirrell standing before the mirror!_

_ And someone else has passed through the black flames..._

_ … Oh dear gods, it's Harry Potter!_

There was no mistaking it this time. All the teachers heard her voice screaming.

_I SEE VOLDEMORT!_

_ HE'S GOING TO KILL HIM!_

_ HARRY NEEDS HELP!_

_ DO SOMETHING!_

_**GET DUMBLEDORE!**_

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck – Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him – my hands – my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms – Harry could see they looked burnt, raw, red and shiny.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face –

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain – his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him doing a curse.

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off – the pain in Harry's head was building – he couldn't see – he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, "Harry! Harry!"

He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down ... down ... down ...

Bella stared down at her brave friend, and then shifted her gaze to the wretched man on the ground beside him. When she morphed herself through the Mirror of Erised to pull Harry away from Quirrell, she saw the face of Voldemort melt into the professor's head and then spew out his mouth in spectral form, disappearing like a bad fog.

That could only mean one thing for the DADA teacher – he was dying. It didn't take long. Some moaning and gasping, and then he gave a terrible shudder and died. Dumbledore arrived at that point, looking completely and utterly like the dangerous wizard he really was, until he saw little Bella cradling Harry in her lap and crooning to him. She looked up at him.

"Sir, I... did something. You're probably not gonna like it."

"What is it, Bella?" the Headmaster's tone was wary. Was she admitting some sort of involvement with Voldemort, after all?

"I took the Philosopher's Stone a few weeks ago and placed an alarm system on the castle in case someone managed to get past the enchantments."

Dumbledore blinked. "How-"

"I own a house elf. They can Apparate anywhere. I studied them when I found out I had one. If you like, I can take you to where I hid it."

"Right after we get Mr Potter up to the hospital wing. Your bravery should be rewarded, Bella."

"Uh-uh, I don't think so. Forgetting that I meddled in your personal affairs with Nicholas Flamel would be reward enough, sir."

"Very well, I'll not make mention of it. Shall we?"

At this, Bella Swan smiled. While Dumbledore lifted Harry up into his arms, the girl took him by the hand and walked _into_ the mirror... and they stepped out into the hospital wing.

"How clever," the Headmaster praised. "Can you teach me that?"

"Um... I don't really know."

My House was in the lead for the House Cup at the end of year feast. It was decked out in the Slytherin colours of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. I was probably the only person at my table scowling at that fact.

Draco elbowed me, a broad smile on his face. It was a little off-putting. "Oi, Swan, why the long face?"

"It's silly," I sighed. "And you won't like it."

"Come on, nothing could spoil my mood right now, Bella, so out with it!"

I rolled my eyes and turned to him. "I don't get it. Is Slytherin happy because we get to rub our victory in Gryffindor's faces, or did we actually achieve something noteworthy this year to be proud of?"

He laughed. "Does it matter? We still won!"

So it was the first, then.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to

ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were ... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts ...

"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little, while my scowl turned into a smirk.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes ...

"First – to Mr Ronald Weasley ..."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with bad sunburn.

"... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in

many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other Prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger ... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves – they were a hundred points up.

"Third – to Mr Harry Potter ..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points – exactly the same as Slytherin. They had drawn for the House Cup – if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't

have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind curse put on him.

I caught their eyes and winked at the Gryffindor boys, pleased at the final turnout.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible forced smile.

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks (I laughed at their faces, since I graded their written Potions exams); Hermione, of course, came tied-for-top of the year with me – my many detentions had lowered my overall score, which I felt was a good thing. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be

thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, our wardrobes were empty, our trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students (bar me because I was an apprentice), warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take us down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; we were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans as we sped past Muggle towns; pulling off our wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

It took quite a while for us all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting us go through the gate in twos and threes so we didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

Somewhere in the hustle and bustle, Draco grabbed my hand, tugging me through the barrier beside him to meet his parents.

"Uncle Severus will meet you at our place," he explained in a low tone.

He gave my hand a squeeze before taking the lead, strutting over to his family like a proud peacock. I stared at him and then my hand as I tottered on behind the young Malfoy heir.

And kinda tripped over in front of Mr Malfoy.

Yeah, still a klutz.

Some things never change.


End file.
